


Saviour

by Rayrawl



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: (the slowest i s2g), Abusive Relationship, Domestic Violence, Hospitals, M/M, Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayrawl/pseuds/Rayrawl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There really isn’t a good way to interpret the scene in front of him. A man that can be no older than twenty-one; a bruise around his temple, sweaty and looking afraid with a briefcase full of weed spilled out on his floor. He can practically hear Donna’s interest from behind the closed door, and even though she would never be so childish, he has an image of her in his head of her pressing her ear against the solid wood to listen in.</p><p>“I-I can explain.” The kid stutters out, eyes flick wildly between the sealed bags on the floor and Harvey himself, stood intimidating and bemused behind the desk.</p><p>“I’d like to see you try.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for domestic abuse and inner-relationship rape, and the recovery that comes after managing to get out of that.
> 
> Slow burn Mike x Harvey.
> 
> Hold onto your hats, kiddo's, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

There really isn’t a good way to interpret the scene in front of him. A man that can be no older than twenty-one; a bruise around his temple, sweaty and looking afraid with a briefcase full of weed spilled out on his floor. He can practically hear Donna’s interest from behind the closed door, and even though she would never be so childish, he has an image of her in his head of her pressing her ear against the solid wood to listen in.

“I-I can explain.” The kid stutters out, eyes flick wildly between the sealed bags on the floor and Harvey himself, stood intimidating and bemused behind the desk.

“I’d like to see you try.” Harvey scoffs, coming around his desk to lean against the edge, watching the kid as he scrambles with shaking hands to push all of the drugs back into his cheap briefcase. He is still knelt as he looks up at Harvey imploringly; eyes wide, blue and watering.

“It’s just I need the money, like really badly-“ Harvey raises his eyebrow in doubt and amusement. “Not-oh jeez- not for anything bad. My grandmother needs an increase in care and that costs a lot, like $25,000, and there is no other way for me to get any money at all so my boy- my friend let me in on this. Only when I got here there was police. They chased me when they figured it out but I lost them coming into the interview and well... here we are.”

The kid is practically shaking on the ground, eyes now dropped and curling in on himself like he’s trying to become as small as possibly. Harvey frowns at him, even though he can’t see, and considers for a moment.

“Stand up.” Harvey orders, going back behind the desk to sit and watch as he tries to collect himself. The kid stands quickly, briefcase in one hand, the other tugging nervously at his horrendous skinny tie. He looks like he’s trying to meet Harvey’s gaze but struggling with it, glancing down at his feet every couple of seconds.

“What’s your name?”

“Mike.” The panicked babbling has ceased, dropped to a slightly frightened hum as he keeps tugging at the knot of his tie.

“Well, Mike.” Harvey chuckles, leaning back in his chair with his fingers crossed in his lap. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t call the police right now and move on with my interviews?” Harvey watches as Mike stares at him openly with conflicting emotions of hope and terror hiding in the lines of his face and in the watery fluttering of his eyes.

“Well- urm- I-“ Mike coughs as once again Harvey raises an eyebrow at him. The kid visibly steels himself, pulling his shoulder up and dropping the hold on his tie. “There is a very likely chance that I have a higher IQ than any of those Harvard grads out there.”

Harvey lets out a barking laugh in disbelief as Mike continues to stare at him in defiance.

“Is that right?”

“I could get a 180 on the LSAT and pass the bar right now for you, if you want to shoot me the questions?” Mike gives him a shaky version of Harvey’s own cocky grin, shoving his hand harshly into his pant pocket.

“If that was true, then why are you here with a briefcase full of illegal drugs and not with a JD in your hand, actually applying?” Harvey sneers, watching with something like disappointment as the boy deflates at his words, once again dropping his gaze.

“I got kicked out of pre-law at NYU.” Mike mumbles. Harvey is certain that if he spends anymore time in this kids presence his eyebrows will honest to god disappear into his forehead.

“Are you even old enough to have been kicked out of NYU?” Mike looks affronted, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“I’m twenty-two!” Harvey snorts.

“Alright then, so why were you kicked out of school?”

“That’s personal.” Mike is back to mumbling for a moment before looking up earnest and imploring.

“Let me prove to you how good I am at this?” Harvey thinks about just shoving the kid out of his office, the police would have moved on by now so he wouldn’t be in danger anymore and that was more than he owed the kid anyway, but he was intrigued.

“Okay then, show me.” Mike looked around until his eyes focused in on his desk.

“That’s a Barbri Legal Handbook right there, right? Open it up. Read me something. Anything.” Harvey stares at the kid for a little while before shrugging, picking up the book and flicking it open to a random page.

“Civil liability associated with agency is based on several factors, including-“

“Including the deviation of the agent from his path, the reasonable inference of agency on behalf of the plaintiff, and the nature of the damages themselves.” Mike finishes for him, mouth tilted up in one corner, trying to hide the smile threatening to break out.

“How did you know that?” Harvey demands, shocked.

“I learnt it. When I studied. For the bar.”

“Okay, hotshot. Fire up this laptop.” Harvey stands, moving around his desk to sit in the chair on the other side as Mike moves into his place behind the desk. “I’m going to show you what a Harvard attorney can do. Pick a subject.”

“Stock object backdating.” Harvey nods his acceptance, pausing to think for a second.

“Although backdating options is legal, violations arised related to disclosures under RIC section 409A.”

“You forgot about Sarbanes-Oxley.” Mike shoots back.

“The statute of limitations render Sarbanes-Oxley mute post-2007.”

“Well, not if you can find actions to cover up the violation as established in the Sixth Circuit May 2008.”

“That's impressive, but you're sitting at a computer.” Mike pushes the laptop around, showing him the screen.

“Playing cards. Sorry, if you want to beat me, you're gonna have to do it at something else.” Harvey gapes at him unattractively, glancing between the screen and Mike’s somewhat smug face.

“Can you recite everything from the bar that way?” Mike nods, blushing a little. “How?”

“Eidetic memory.” Mike taps his temple, wincing a little when he feels the pressure against the nasty looking bruise on his skin. Harvey almost wants to ask how he got that, but he doesn’t care, honestly. Instead, he nods, standing and brushing imaginary dirt off his impeccable suit.

“This goes against everything, my own rules and the rules at Pearson Hardman. Do you understand?” Mike swallows nervously, hands twisting together where they’re placed on the desk.

“I’m going to give you a chance kid, hire you as my associate this year. Signing bonus is $25,000 and you work your goddamn ass off. And you do not tell anyone, not a single soul, about your lack of education.”

Mike is trembling. At least, that’s what it looks like. His hands are shaking, and his eyes are wide, bright. The kid looks sickly, excited, terrified and hopeful all at once. His head is nodding jerkily, standing very suddenly to cross to his proper side of the desk.

“Good, you start at 9am Monday, be on time. And for the love of God, get yourself some decent suits over the weekend.” Mike glances down at his suit with a frown, like he’s questioning what is wrong with it, but Harvey just sighs and waves him out of the room. Donna shoots him a look through the door as Mike leaves, grinning wildly with terrified eyes.

“Send the rest of them home, i’ve found one.” Harvey tells her, looking down at the paperwork on his desk. This is the going to be either the worst or the best decision he has ever made, and he’s hoping that this won’t blow up in his face. Donna smirks at him, but he can see the concern in her eyes as he glances up at her. He gives her a smirk and a nod, which she returns, before turning and getting rid of the rest of the Harvard douche bags waiting outside.

This had better be worth it.

* * *

Mike is floating somewhere on a cloud of disbelief and happiness. One wrong deal, a turn into a room, and Mike was offered all the money he needed and more. A job doing what he’s always wanted to, working with the best lawyers NYC has to offer, and someone who actually believes in him to make it work. 

He is, however, having his buzz ruined the closer he gets to the apartment he shares with Trevor. The briefcase of weed is on the seat beside him in the cab he got outside of the building, undelivered and therefore not earning anyone any money. Trevor had given him this on faith, and now he was going to bring this back to him, disappoint him. Anger him.

Gently, he pressed fingers over the blue-yellow bruises across the side of his face. They’re partially covered with concealer, but there was no way he could cover that whole thing with any amount of makeup.

Trevor was going to be pissed.

The bone deep aches in his body become more pronounced the closer they get to the apartment, the trembling in his hands returns with a vengeance and he is fighting the urge to curl up in a ball right here in the cab.

Over the past few months, ever since Mike lost his job as a bike messenger, Trevor has been becoming more and more on edge. Flies off the handle at the smallest thing, and these days he doesn’t even have to be drunk to lash out at Mike. He is controlling, to the point of telling Mike what he can and can’t eat, what he can wear, who he can see. Trevor no longer even attempts to reign himself in,  doesn’t only leave bruises on places that aren’t in the public view anymore, hence the broken blood vessels  spilling out beneath the skin on his face.

The cab driver turned to him, concern in his eyes, to tell him that they were at the address he’s given him and to ask if he was okay. Mike nodded numbly, fishing out bills from his pocket and handing them over before climbing out of the car with the briefcase. The apartment was on the third floor, and even from down here on the sidewalk Mike could see Trevor’s silhouette in the window.

He stood on the sidewalk and trembled, remembering the way Trevor’s knee felt connecting with his stomach, or the way his fist felt as it connected with his face. He remembered the way Trevor would pin him to any surface, or force him down onto his knee’s, and tell Mike that it was his fault he lost his temper. Mike vividly recalled the feeling of choking as Trevor forced his way down his throat, and the way his hand felt over Mike’s mouth when screams tried to break free, when he had him trapped underneath him.

After the first couple of times, when it was only happening when Trevor had been drunk and he had sobbed and apologised and told Mike he loved him, Mike had forgiven him. He had justified it, told himself that he had mouthed off, done something idiotic, that it was his own fault he got Trevor so angry or made him need to put his claim on Mike’s body. After that though, when Trevor no longer needed to be drunk, and it was happening at least two or three times a week, Mike gave up on justifying any of it. He knew inside that he should leave, but where would he go? His Grammy wouldn’t understand why Mike had put up with it, there was no one he could stay with until he found some income and a place to live. Mike had no savings, and Trevor was always angry when he brought up getting a new job. Saying things like _‘why do you need anything other than me?_ ’ or _‘you’re trying to get away from me, aren’t you?’_. He’d get so angry, and the next morning Mike would be the one apologising, telling Trevor he wouldn’t look for a job, that he needed nothing but Trevor, that of course he wasn’t trying to get away, he loved Trevor.

For a while, Mike thought he honestly meant those apologies. Thought that he did love Trevor, and would do anything for him. That he deserved what had been done to him.

Now, he was just too scared to leave.

Mike must have stood on the sidewalk for about ten minutes; watching the window into their apartment and remembering all of the pain, the terror, the once existent feelings of love, before he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. On autopilot he slid it out of his pants and answered the call.

“Hello?” His voice sounded wrong to his ears, like his tongue was too dry to talk.

 _“I know you’re standing on the sidewalk like an idiot, and I know you fucked up. Get up here, now.”_ There was a click as the call was ended and Mike stared at his phone like it was an unknown object. Eventually, his shoulders slumped and he began making his way inside. There really was no way of avoiding this, better to do as he says now than pay for the disobedience later.

* * *

Jessica _knows_.

Harvey isn’t even sure how he knows she knows, but she does. There is a tension emanating from her office as he goes to walk past it on Monday morning, and Donna is giving him the stink eye from the end of the corridor.

It’s confirmed when Jessica crooks her finger and beckons him into her office with a _‘shut the door behind you’_ nod once he’s over the threshold.

“Good morning.” False cockiness has gotten Harvey through so much, but never with Jessica. She shoots him a look and points her finger at the chair in front of her desk.

“I see you hired an associate.” Shark smile, the one she uses in court when she knows she’s caught someone in her web of intricately woven words.

“I did, kid with an eidetic memory.” Jessica hums, still smiling.

“Yes,  I heard. Michael James Ross. I assume you checked his LSAT and bar scores?” Harvey nods.

“Because, you know we only take Harvard’s best here.”

“Of course.” There is an overwhelming urge to shift in his seat, something he hasn’t felt since the last time he’d been in a room with his mother. Jessica is just staring at him, leaning back in her chair with her hands folded in her lap and the best view of New York besides the Empire State that a person could get. Sometimes, when they’re joking and friendly with each other. Harvey forgets just how powerful and intimidating this woman really is.

“So, Harvey.” She leans forwards, elbows on her desk and her hands still entwined together. “Would you like to tell me why you hired a kid who has absolutely no law degree, never mind a JD from Harvard?”

“Jessica, listen-“

“I mean, you’ve pulled some stupid bullshit in your time Harvey. But this? I think this takes the prize for most stupid.” She interrupted, dropping the smile and frowning at him, eyes alight with anger.

“He can recite everything from the Barbri handbook. He knows how to be a lawyer.” Harvey defended.

“And that isn’t going to mean anything because he isn’t licensed to practice law in any state, at all.” There really isn’t a rebuttal for that, because no, he isn’t at all. They would all be in so much trouble is they let Ross work here and were discovered.

“Give him a chance and I promise you, hand on heart that our billable will increase by at least five percent over the next let’s say, six months.” Jessica scoffed, so Harvey continued, wincing as he did so. He had no idea why he had formed such a strong attachment to the kid in less than fifteen minutes, but here he was offering things he would have never dreamed to have offered before.

“If they don’t, you can take my bonus’ for a year and i’ll do one pro-bono a month. Just, give the kid a chance.” Jessica sort of froze, anger in her eyes drifting from anger to confusion as she assessed the truth behind his words.

“You will honestly stake all of it on this one kid? Why? What’s so special about this one?” Harvey shrugs, relief flooding in and letting the knot of tension in his stomach become unraveled.

“What did you see in me, when you gave me a chance?” There is another moment where she pauses, staring at him like she can see right into his mind, his thoughts. And hell, this is Jessica Pearson. Maybe she can? In the end though, she nods, almost to herself.

“Alright, i’ll give him a chance, but Harvey?” He already out of his chair, knowing better than to stick around after she’s given him permission for something.

“First toe out of line, and he’s out of here. You understand?” He just nods, escaping the room as soon as the shark smile returns. Harvey isn’t sure how she figured it out, when she figured it out, or what it actually was that convinced her to let Mike stay, but he didn’t really care right now. There was no firing, no losing, only winning right now, and one less person to keep a secret from.

Hopefully, Mike will live up to his potential and Harvey will never have to worry about his lack of degree ever again.

* * *

There really, really isn’t any easy way to put a suit on with ribs that are bruised and what feels like burning matches being pressed to the bottom of your back, but Mike manages it. Really, he’d been lucky when he’d told Trevor. When he’d finally calmed down and Mike had really explained it all, Trevor was okay with it. Obviously he demanded that everything that wasn’t for his grandmother went straight from Mike’s account to his, and Mike had to call when he got to work every day, and at lunch, and when he was on his way home. Other than that though, all was okay on that front, because money? Money made Trevor happy. Especially when he didn’t have to go out there and earn it for himself.

Harvey was waiting for Mike outside the building when he finishing chaining up his bike. Mike has his phone pressed tightly to the side of his head, Trevor growling in his ear about behaving, about how he isn’t allowed to let people touch him, about how he belongs to Trevor and he better damn well remember that. Mike’s trying his best to placate him with promises, telling him he will definitely call at lunch time and that yes, of course Mike knows how to behave and that he’s Trevor’s.  By the time Trevor has calmed down again, Mike has made his way to Harvey who is watching him with a strange look on his face as Mike pockets his phone and turns to him with a wide smile.

“You alright, kid?” Harvey looks over him, and Mike knows he’s dressed right at least. Trevor had let him borrow a suit, one of his more expensive pieces that he uses when he’s doing drops in fancy places. There are no visible bruises, as long as he keeps his sleeves down past his wrists and the concealer on his jaw line stays where it’s supposed to be. He didn’t bother covering up the one on his temple because Harvey saw it at the interview, but other than that he’s good to go.

“I’m fine!” Mike tells him, with a smile that’s making his injured jaw ache. He wants to wrap an arm around his middle and protect his tender ribs, and riding his bike meant the pain in his lower back has gotten worse, but he’s good. Mike wants to do this, he wants to work and do what he loves, he wants to make sure Harvey doesn’t regret taking this risk for him. Harvey gives him a look of disbelief, but shakes it off and beckons him along with him as he turns on his heel and heads inside the honestly intimidating building.

* * *

Something is going on with Mike.

Of course, Harvey had known something was up when the kid with a bruised face and a briefcase full of pot had stumbled into his interview room and proceeded to give Harvey the most intriguing and entertaining half an hour he’s had in a long while.

But it’s something more than that. Oh, he’s settled in alright, working through briefs at an unprecedented rate and learning things faster than Harvey thought possible. There were the usual hiccups one could accept when employing a kid without a degree, and some issues of jealousy within the associates pool, but other than that Mike was settled at work.

Harvey still felt something was wrong.

It had started on that first day, watching Mike as he got off that goddamn bike so carefully and slowly, overhearing parts of a conversation with a man on the phone where Mike was making ridiculous platitudes and promises. Harvey had even  caught the smudge of makeup on the kids jaw line, something he’s only able to identify because of bruises from the gym he’s needed to cover up for work. Which means he’s also fairly sure it’s new bruise that Mike is hiding, because the one on his temple is still visible. He can only assume it’s because Harvey had already seen that one in the interview, and it makes him wonder what else Mike is hiding, and where all these bruises are coming from.

Over the next few weeks, there is other behaviour which is concerning. The way that some mornings Mike is limping on his way in, the way his cheekbones are slowly becoming more visible as he appears to be losing weight, the sheer amount of ridiculous phone calls Mike makes to what appears to be the same person over the course of each day.

Harvey figures it’s not actually his issue. If Mike is in some kind of trouble, he knows Harvey will help him out if he can. Or, at least he thinks the kid knows that. His work is excellent, beyond par, and that’s what’s important. As long as that continues then Harvey isn’t going to get himself involved in Mike’s life outside of the office.

At least that had been his plan, until a month after Mike started working for him; Donna saunters into his office with her mouth pressed into a tight line and locks the door behind her.

“Have you seen Mike today?” Harvey has put everything to one side, because Donna does not do this without very good cause and that means she requires his full and undivided attention.

“No. He was late so I left today’s briefs on his desk. He hasn’t been in to see me so I assume he’s working on them. Why?” Donna sighs, moving to take a seat opposite him with a concerned look on her face. It’s disconcerting. Although Harvey knows Donna cares a little about the kid, it’s still a little off putting to see her giving that face for any reason other than when he himself has fucked up somewhere.

“The kid is a mess. I don’t know what’s going on with him Harvey, but I know you’ve noticed. The bruises he’s hiding? The phone calls? Today, jesus I walked past his cubicle as he was sitting down and he looked like it was causing him pain just to get into the chair. And he’s not even bothering to hide what a mess his face is. Bruises everywhere. And his suit is dirty, and I think he has a torn pocket.” Harvey blows out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. He’s been hoping to avoid this, bury his head in the sand about whatever is going on with Mike, but if he’s coming into work a bruised and filthy mess then he needs to get it figured out before it gets any worse.

“Can you go and get him for me?” Donna nods, standing and smoothing down her skirt as she heads for the door.

“Go gentle on him, Harvey.” She tells him, before unlocking the door and making her way down the corridor and in search of Mike.

It takes ten minutes for Donna to come back with Mike behind her, which means the kid was either in the library or the file room and not at his desk. Harvey doesn’t look up until Donna is back at her desk, listening through the intercom, and Mike is stood awkwardly in the middle of Harvey’s office.

Harvey’s first glance at Mike is somewhat disconcerting. The kid has a split lip, a black eye, a bruised jaw and what looks like finger marks on what he can see of his neck beneath the collar of his shirt. The left pocket of his suit jacket it torn half off, there is blood on his pale blue tie. A closer look and he can see Mike swaying dangerously, moving to wrap one arm around his middle as he drops his head down and his gaze to the floor.

“Why the hell do you look like a down on his luck banker who got hit by a car?” Harvey’s voice is harsh, and that is not at all what he meant to say. It just happened, and by the look Donna is giving him through the glass and the pained whine that escapes Mike when he flinches at Harvey’s tone is enough for him to rush an apology and get out of his chair to cross the room to Mike.

“That’s not what I meant. What happened to you, kid?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.” Mike’s voice is hoarse and quiet, head still bowed and still swaying slightly. The set of his shoulders is tense in what Harvey can only assume is pain. Harvey snorts, raises a hand to slide beneath Mike’s chin and lift his gaze but he kid practically jumps away from him, cries out in pain when he does and then tries to take deep breaths.

“Jesus, kid, that doesn’t look like nothing.” Mike is still trying to take deep breaths, wincing every time, an arm wrapped around his ribs and clearly blinking away tears welling in his glassy eyes. Donna is in his doorway, looking increasingly concerned when Harvey turns to her baffled.

“Mike, sweetie.” Donna comes further into the room, to the side of Mike so that hopefully this time he won’t try to get away. “This is not okay. We just want you to sit down so we can look you over, alright?”

“I’m fine.” Mike chokes out wetly, still swaying dangerously. Both Harvey and Donna take a few steps closer without thinking about it, cornering him in a little.

“Okay, you’re fine. But let’s get you sat down before you fall down.” Mike looks like he’s about to protest but then winces, and nods instead. There is a tangible air of relief between Donna and himself and they each get an arm around him without actually touching him, leading Mike towards the sofa. They’re maybe two or three steps from getting him there when Mike doubles over, cries out in what sounds like agony. There is the faint sound of retching as Mike slips down to his knees with Donna and Harvey panicking over him.

“Oh, god.” Mike moans, and then he’s throwing up. Donna moves quickly, grabbing a trash can to thrust underneath Mike’s bent body as he retches and coughs and moans. Donna and Harvey are knelt behind him, so when he stops throwing up they can catch him as he lists sideways, eyes rolled back and showing whites.

“Holy shit – Donna, call an ambulance!” Donna is already sliding away, rushing to grab Harvey’s mobile from the desk instead of going for her own phone outside. She’s pale, tears in her eyes, but Harvey is too focused on holding Mike’s head up on his knees and tapping the kids cheek for a reaction. There isn’t one, and a press of fingers against Mike’s pulse point tells him that although the kid is still alive, his heart beat is fast and thready, worrying on a good day, never mind when he’s beaten, sick and unconscious on Harvey’s office floor. There’s the faint murmur of Donna talking to an operator behind him as he checks over Mike. He takes a cursory but necessary glance at whatever it is Mike’s thrown up, but it mostly just looks like bile. It’s hardly surprising, given the way the kids been losing weight recently, that there is nothing in his stomach. What is surprising, however, is the pink-red tinge of blood that he can just about see, the pink smear of it around Mike’s mouth. Blood in his vomit is definitely not a good sign, and it adds to the growing sense of unease, like a heavy ball in Harvey’s stomach.

Donna is back at his side a moment later, brushing fingers gently though Mike’s hair. He can see her pressing her fingertips over his scalp, checking for bumps to the head that would have cause what was now obviously some kind of concussion.

“There’s a lump at the back of his head.” Donna, whispering uncharacteristically, informs him as she pulls her fingers away and presses her fingers over his pulse point where Harvey had pressed just moments ago.

“What the hell is going on here, Harvey?” Jessica is stood in his door way watching them with confusion and concern. Harvey gestures down at Mike’s unconscious and bruised body, letting Jessica make her own conclusions as she steps into the room.

“Oh, my. I’m assuming you’ve already rang an ambulance?” Harvey nods sharply once, attention completely on Mike. Making sure he’s still breathing, still alive. The kid is so uncharacteristically still that it’s awful to watch. He knows he should be figuring out what the hell happened to Mike and getting ready to press charges that even the weathiest, most influential people couldn’t escape from, but Mike and his wellbeing right now is the centre of his attention. Donna is apparently filling in Jessica for him as he waits, feeling for the lump on Mike’s head himself. His fingers brush over it once and he’s shocked at the size of it. It’s no wonder the kid was swaying, throwing up, unconscious on the floor. Whoever did this to Mike, they caused him some real damage.

Donna has literally just bemoaned the time it’s taking an ambulance to get here when two paramedics arrive in the room, flowing in with a professional air and demanding all kind of information. It’s a blur of backboards, neck collars, oxygen masks from then onwards as the paramedics rush to get Mike ready for transport and more and more people gather outside of Harvey’s office to gawp. The last thing Harvey hears as he follows the gurney out of the room is Jessica calling to him from his office.

“Take as much time as you need, Harvey. And I want an update as soon as you know anything!” There isn’t enough time for a response, so he waves her an affirmative over his shoulder and follows his associate to the elevators.

* * *

Mike has slowly been fucking up with Trevor since he took the job. Missing a lunch time phone call, not getting back to the apartment until late at night when Trevor is already high or drunk and ready to lash out. Trevor had reneged on his promises regarding money the moment Mike forgot to ring him when he was supposed to, taking the money deposited into Mike’s account and transferring it to his own. Mike still owed the $25,000 on his grandmothers care home, he hadn’t been given money to buy his own food or clothes. Trevor had taken everything.

As a result, the punishments for his mistakes were getting worse and worse. Mike wasn’t allowed anywhere unless it was work, and now it had been more than a month since he’s seen his grams. His mobile was only his during office hours, and Trevor checked it over and over for any incriminating evidence. The beatings were horrific enough that Mike found himself drifting from them, finding himself inside a blank space in his head. Sometimes he read books to himself, watched shows he’s already seen inside of his head. Sometimes he drifted off to a time when he was at work, with Harvey or Donna, and felt safe and invincible. Either way, when he came back into his own headspace, he would be bleeding, in agony, unable to move on the floor, or bent over the sofa, or laid out on the bed. And Trevor would be gone. There was no apologies now, no declarations of love and begging for forgiveness.

Mike has long since let go of any belief in Trevor’s love for him. He’s still here because he’s terrified. For his job. For his home. For his life.

Although, by the look on Trevor’s face this morning, he’s not any closer to protecting those things with Trevor than he is without.

Mike isn’t sure what he’s done wrong this time. Maybe the coffee wasn’t hot enough, or Trevor’s toast wasn’t toasted enough. Maybe the sex he’d been woken up to, held down for, hadn’t been good enough. All he knows is that he comes out of the bathroom, having showered away the feeling of Trevor on him and inside of him, covered up the bruises already on him, to see Trevor stalking towards him with coffee in one hand and the other curled into a fist. Mike stumbled back a step, already anticipating what’s going to happen but Trevor has already lashed out and his fist catches Mike on the chin. The force throws him backwards, head hitting hard enough to daze him on the side table behind him.

After that, everything is almost a blur, but not quite. He feels the hot burn of coffee seeping through shirt, the sharp tug of his hair, the blows landed by fists and feet and knees to his ribs, his stomach, his back. There are probably words being screamed at him, but the ringing in his ears and the blood rushing through his head is blocking it out. He doesn’t check in again until he can feel the tugging at his belt, the slip of his trousers being pulled down to just his thighs so that his legs are tangled together.

“You belong to me. You hear me Mikey? You’re mine. Not Harvey goddamn Specter’s. So you take this so you know you’re mine and he’ll know to keep himself away from you.  And you better fucking know, Mike. You hear me? You better know you’re mine and that no one else is allowed to touch you like this.” Trevor growls, hot breath brushing over the shell of Mike’s ear. Distantly, he thinks about how not even Trevor should be allowed to touch him like this. That no one should ever touch or be touched like this. But the fight in him is gone, head throbbing, body aching and the pain of Trevor pressing into him, lining up and pushing in without any preparation or lubrication, it’s too much. Mike has a moment to be thankful that they’ve already had sex once this morning, so he’s not completely unprepared, before he loses himself inside his head and beings to finally, finally block it all out.

The next time Mike is actually paying attention to himself, to his surroundings, he’s sitting down at his desk as Pearson Hardman. With a start he looks around, the other associates are staring at him but they aren’t saying anything, and he can see some kind of pity in their eyes. With a glance down at himself, he sees that the suit he had been wearing is changed, but this one has blood on the tie which must be what he can feel drying around his nose, and one of his pockets is torn. He can only imagine the way he looks, and the face Donna pulls when she comes around the corner to see him is enough to secure it.

He’s going to be in so much trouble with Harvey.  Who has apparently left a pile of briefs on his desk. Mike sighs, gathers them up and moves slowly into standing, and then going to the file room to work without the pitying glances of the associates around him.

Donna finds him fifteen minutes later, when he’s staring blankly at a page and trying to ignore the pain pulsing in his body and the heavy nausea building inside of him. Mike jumps when she appears beside him, causing pain to flash brightly through his ribs and his wrist when he knocks it off the desk.

“Harvey wants to see you.” Donna is looking at him with an unreadable expression as he stands, abandoning his paperwork and then following her out of the room and towards Harvey’s office. She keeps glancing behind herself to look at him. It feels like every step is a mile, swaying dangerously on his feet as he continues on. Every movement is a sharp spike of pain, his back is burning, legs aching, ribs throbbing. And the pain in his head is close to indescribable.

Harvey is obviously unaware of his predicament when he growls at Mike about the state of his dress. Mike just wants to lie down, forget about this entire day and sleep off the pain, but he has to keep both Trevor and Harvey happy, and both means earning money, and that means working.

The tone of his bosses voice changes dramatically. Mike jumps back when he tries to reach out to touch him, flashing back for a moment to Trevor’s fist connecting with his face this morning, and the action just causes him more pain. Harvey is still talking to him, and whatever is going on Mike is obviously agreeing because a moment later he and Donna are leading him somewhere. The movement hurts though, it hurts too much and the feeling inside of him, the one of terror and doom is growing and growing until he can feel himself falling, feel himself retching and crying out and being soothed by the people around him.

And then there is nothing.


	2. Not Medical Procedure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of some of this story are going to seem really OOC, however, always think of those as a plot device that I promise to resolve quickly!

Harvey and Donna have been waiting, pacing and worrying in the waiting room for close to two hours before a doctor comes out looking for family of Michael Ross.

“Are you related?” She has critical eyes, and is clearly unimpressed with the expensive clothes and confident individuals stood in front of her. But, Harvey thinks, they probably don’t look like anything other than worried family members right now anyway, so it isn’t a comment on themselves but the situation they have been put into.

“We’re the only people Mike has right now.” Harvey tells her, hands crossed behind his back to stop the restless fidgeting. The doctor nods, beckons them to follow her and leads them along a sterile corridor filled with private rooms and medical staff flitting about. Eventually she stops outside of a room, number 2-13, and turns to them with a conflicted look on her face.

“We have Mike sedated right now, he woke up and was quite distressed, and we needed to keep him calm for an investigation of his injuries and some scans.” Harvey nods, moves an arm to grab at Donna’s outstretched hand.

“How bad is it?” Donna sounds like she’s been crying for a while, which she has, but also like she’s steeling herself for the worst. Harvey can appreciate that. He’s been trapped inside of his head making up scenarios for Mike since the kid fell to the ground. The twist of the doctor’s face adds to that constant ball of unease inside of him.

“He has two broken ribs, one fractured. He has sustained a head injury, and we predict a moderate to severe concussion. Michael has three broken fingers, a badly sprained wrist. Those are the worst of the outward injuries. From scans, we can’t see any internal bleeding, so the blood in his vomit is most likely from stomach trauma, and there isn’t any swelling on his brain which is lucky. Other than that, he has a body of lacerations and bruises. Most concerning are the ones around his throat and over his temple. Michael is also malnourished and dehydrated.” Harvey watches as the doctor squirms, reading out a list of injuries that is making him feel sick. Donna is crying quietly beside him, and he squeezes her hand gently. There’s clearly something else the doctor needs to say, if the way she keeps looking between Mike’s door, his file and Harvey and Donna. He decides to wait her out, if it’s as bad as her body language is making it seem, he’d rather hear it later than sooner.

“You say you’re like the only family he has now?” Harvey and Donna share a look, before turning to the doctor and nodding together. She lets out a sigh, seems to steel herself for whatever it is she’s going to say and then flips the page on a file.

“When we were removing Michael’s clothes in order to change him into a hospital gown, our nurses noticed he has a multitude of bruises around his thighs and buttocks, and what appeared to be finger tip bruises on his hip bones that were similar to those around his throat. When we see this kind of bruising, it indicates sexual abuse. We did an internal exam, and ran the usual tests. From what we can identify-“ Harvey does not want to hear this. He does not, under any circumstance want to know what is about to come out of this doctors mouth. But there is no way to avoid it, and the way that Donna is clinging to his hand is keeping him grounded to the spot. “That Mike has recently been forced into a sexual act. In fact, tearing, bruising and other indicators show it is not the first time and that this kind of assault has been going on for a while.”

Donna sort of goes weak kneed beside him with a sob, and Harvey has to wrap an arm around her and lead her to a row of chairs on the other side of the corridor. He can hear her mumbling ‘ _oh my god, oh my god’_ under her breath repeatedly before she turns into his side and buries her head into the curve of his neck.

“I’m sorry to have to give you the news like this.” The doctor says softly, waiting for Harvey to look up at her before she continues. “When you’re ready, you can go in and wait with Michael. We need to wait for him to wake up to check his concussion and talk to him about what has happened. He will need to make the decision on what he would like to do, but it’ll be good for him to have your support.” Harvey nods at her, running his fingers gently through Donna’s hair as she tries to get herself composed beside him.

“Okay, well if you need anything press the call button to the left of Michael’s bed. I’ll come back when we get signs of him coming around again.” The doctor swiftly turns and disappears along the corridor. Harvey can hardly blame her. He can only imagine the way they look right now, the horrified, struck dumb expressions on their face as they sit outside of an abused kids room trying to figure out what has happened underneath their noses.

“How didn’t we see this happening, Harvey?”  Donna asks wetly into his neck as he keeps up the soothing motion of his fingers through her hair. She’s trembling slightly against him as she reigns herself in.

“I think we saw it, Donna.” He’s working on nerves and almost on auto-pilot, staring at a white door that is between them and Mike. “I think we saw it, and we ignored it because we didn’t want to know what it meant.” Harvey can feel the truth and the guilt of that statement settle like a cloud over him, a heavy over cast weight on his shoulders.

“Who do you think it is? Does Mike even have a boyfriend?” Harvey nods.

“I think he does. Some kid called Trevor. There’s been an uncountable amount of calls between them and all i’ve heard is Mike feeding him platitudes. It doesn’t matter right now, Donna. Let’s go and sit with Mike until he wakes up, we can deal with it after that, alright?” Donna nods into his shoulder, pulls away and wipes angrily at the tears streaming down her face, before standing and holding out a hand to tug him up.

* * *

It’s three hours before the sedative begins to wear off. Donna has been gone for half of that, going into the office to grab some files and tell Jessica what was going on, and with Harvey’s credit card so she can get the kid some clothes while she was out.

It starts little, the way that the sound of Mike’s heart beating through the monitor becomes quicker, the way his fingers twitch and his eyes move beneath his lids. Harvey leans over him a little, whispers his name and tells him it’s okay to come back now. It’s about a gentle as Harvey knows how to be. He doesn’t want to touch Mike, not without express permission, not after everything he knows his associate has been through.

It’s a little while later, when Harvey is scrolling through his phone for emails and with a cup of awful coffee in his other hand that Mike finally comes around enough to be coherent.

“Har-Harvey?” Mike’s voice is quiet and dry, and Harvey moves quickly to grab the cup of cold water with a straw and lower it for Mike to drink from. Mike gives him a flicker of a grateful smile, just enough to pull at the stitch in his lip and cause him to wince in pain.

“What happened?” Mike asks, turning his head to look at Harvey. The bruises on his neck stretch purple-blue-green as he turns and Harvey’s stomach churns.

“You collapsed in my office.” Harvey tells him seriously, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Mike seems to be thinking it over, and battling against the concussion that is obvious in the glassy look of his eyes and the strange contraction of his pupils. It doesn’t seem as bad as it could have been though.

“Oh. I don’t remember that. Harvey, why don’t I remember that?” Mike’s voice has taken on a tangible edge of hysteria that Harvey is quick to soothe away.

“It’s okay Mike. You took a hard hit to the head, you’ve got a bad concussion. It’s not unusual to forget things.”

“I’ve never forgotten something completely before.” Mike whimpers back in reply. Harvey doesn’t say anything, just watches as Mike lifts his head slowly like it’s causing him dizziness to do so and look down at his body. He can only imagine what all of the bruises, the injuries, the pain of it all must feel like on top of the trauma of repeated attacks and especially on top of forgetting things for the first time in his life. Harvey can’t imagine that Mike is anything less than in agony, terrified and confused right now and he wishes there was something more that he could do, but there isn’t. In lieu of being able to help Mike himself, Harvey reaches out and presses the call button for the nurse and watches as Mike tries to sort through his own head.

The nurse breezes in a moment later with the doctor on her heels, both with too bright smiles and pity in their eyes and exclamations of _it’s so, so good to see you awake again, Michael_! Harvey can see the way Mike wants to edge back from them, the way he won’t meet their eyes. Mike doesn’t want their pity, he wants to get out of here and move on with it. Harvey knows that might very well be impossible though, and even if Mike tried, there is no way he or Donna could forget this or let him go back to that asshole again.

“You’re going to have to stand outside while we check over Mr. Ross.” The nurse has a hand on his elbow and is directing him out of the room even as she speaks, and a glance back at Mike shows the kid practically begging for Harvey to stay but he can’t, the door is already shut behind him by the time he decides to demand to stay. Instead, he takes a seat and waits.

He doesn’t have to wait long, before the sounds of Mike’s raised voice echo out into the hall towards him.

“You did what? How could you? I didn’t give permission for that!” Harvey clenches his eyes shut, pushes his fingers roughly through his hair as the doctors voice, also slightly raised, reaches him as well.

“It was in your best interests, Mr. Ross. The hospital acted on behalf of your wellbeing and we suspected an assault that needed to be documented.”

“You preformed an internal examination! That is beyond duty, you have the legal right to collect external samples and hair samples if a patient is unconscious but it is a singular decision to do an internal exam if a doctor is sure a patient will wake up eventually. You knew I’d wake up, why didn’t you wait? I didn’t want this!” It is so tragically like Mike to be arguing law when he has a concussion, broken bones and bruises all over his body, but Harvey can understand. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d understood what a violation of Mike that examination was. If Mike was already a victim, why would someone who wants to help him violate him more without his consent?

“We were attempting to make sure we could do it when it would be as painless as possible, Mr. Ross. It is procedure here.”

“I don’t care about your procedure! I didn’t want a kit doing, you had absolutely no right to do that without my consent.” Mike’s voice trails off into a wet sob and Harvey is done listening to this from outside of the room. The more he listens to Mike’s argument, the more he realises is wrong with the practice of this doctor in this situation. Not only did she do an invasive procedure without consent, but she also told two totally unrelated people who are not on Mike’s emergency contact list the absolute extent of his abuse and injuries.

“You need to leave now.” Harvey puts on his best alpha lawyer voice, trying to ignore the humiliated look in Mike’s eyes and he glares at the medical professionals in the room.

“Sir, I’m his doctor-“

“I don’t care. You broke hospital policy, and committed a breech in moral and ethical codes when you not only did an invasive test on an unconscious patient but then told people not on his contact list the extent of his injuries. You need to leave, now. We’ll find another doctor.” Mike looks marginally relieved, but mostly he’s refusing to meet Harvey’s eyes as he steps out of the way and lets both the doctor and the nurse flounce past him in indignation.

“Mike-“

“They told you?” Mike sounds tiny, and the bed he is lying in seems to suddenly be swathing him in blankets like a child. Harvey has that disconcerting need to make this all better, to brush his fingers through the boys hair like he did when he was unconscious on his office floor and tell him that it’s okay, nothing will hurt him now.

Instead, he moves to sit back down in his previous chair and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“They told Donna and I when they were done examining you.” Mike is still refusing to meet his eyes, head turned slightly away from him and breathing in a way that is obviously painful, given the state of his ribs.

“They shouldn’t have done that.” The kid whispers wetly, swallowing hard and then wincing at the way it makes his damaged throat hurt and throb. Harvey sighs, scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“No, they shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry that they did, Mike.” There is uncomfortable silence descending over the room that is broken only by the drip-drip of Mike’s IV and the constant beeping of the heart monitor still attached to him. It’s reassuring, in an odd way, to not only have Mike alive and awake in front of him, but to be able to see mechanical and scientific proof ringing through his ears.

“I want to get out of here. I want to go home.” Mike tells him an undetermined amount of time later, his voice pulling him out of the lull of uncomfortable silence and intermittent beeping. Harvey frowns at Mike, laid slightly raised on a hospital bed looking just about as bad as a person can get.

“Mike-“

“ _Please_ , Harvey.” Mike begs him, turning his head to look up at Harvey with pale, dull eyes. “Please, I’ll sign out AMA and get better out of here. I hate hospitals. I _hate_ them. I want to go home.” Harvey is still staring intently at Mike, at the obvious pain he is still in, considering the possible ramifications of taking him out of the general safety of a hospital and the wide world outside where whoever did this to Mike is still in existence. It was, however, inherently obvious that Mike was far too distressed in the hospital to properly recover.

“I’ll get a nurse to bring the forms through.” Harvey stands, hovering over Mike’s bed. “But you know you can’t go home, Mike. You can stay with me or Donna until you figure out what you’re going to do, but you can’t go home.” Mike stares at him, clearly debating whether to argue this point with him, but there is obvious defeat in his eyes and he just nods in the end, closing his eyes and leaning back heavier into his thin hospital pillow. Harvey almost deflates in relief. He didn’t know what he was going to do if Mike resisted. He could have signed himself out AMA anyway and Harvey wouldn’t have been able to stop him going home, couldn’t have forced himself onto Mike in any way, not after what the kid has been through.

* * *

Mike is exhausted, beyond exhausted, and despite the pain medication they’ve obviously been dripping into him alongside his saline IV, he’s in more pain that he wants to try and deal with. It feels like every bruise, ever laceration, every minute of abuse from the past month is suddenly making itself known. Like retribution for him pushing through the pain, ignoring it, all the other times.

He lets himself sink into the uncomfortable hospital bed when Harvey leaves to organise his AMA release forms, and tries not to let the humiliation of Harvey and Donna knowing what has happened to him bury itself too deep inside of him. Mike hates himself enough for it as it is, he doesn’t need to disappointment from them knowing he let it happen adding to his burden. Harvey has seemed ridiculously worried today, like he actually cares, and Mike just wants to revel in that feeling after so long of Harvey denying it.

Going home with Harvey does present other issues, though; Trevor _is_ his emergency medical contact, which means the hospital has contacted him already. It’s not surprising that he hasn’t turned up yet, but when he does and he realises that Mike isn’t here and he isn’t at home, his next assumption will be that’s he at Harvey’s and he’ll come looking. It won’t be pretty and it won’t be happy, and Mike has no idea how that is going to turn out in the end. Maybe Harvey will defend him, or maybe he’ll realise that dealing with Mike’s shit is too much trouble and he’ll let Trevor leave with him.

And then there is the issue of his job.

After everything that has happened, collapsing inside of the building, being a freaking abused boyfriend, causing so much trouble and making not only himself need a day off, but Harvey and Donna as well? Yeah, his job security is probably not all that secure right now.

Harvey comes back an undetermined amount of time later with a flustered looking nurse who is clutching a clipboard to her chest and a new doctor with a worried-angry expression obvious in the lines of her face and the turn of her mouth.

“Hello Mr, Ross. Mr. Specter tells me you want to sign yourself out AMA?” Mike turns to her slowly, tries to ignore the obviously angry expression on Harvey’s face, to nod at the medical professionals.

“You’re really in no condition to be away from medical help right now, Mr. Ross. It’s not advisable.” Her tone is stern, and Mike can feel himself almost cower away from her. He doesn’t want to make anyone else angry; he doesn’t want to cause trouble.

“Mike wants to go home, give him the forms to sign. He won’t be by himself.” The doctor shoots Harvey a glare, but Mike already has his arm stretched out as far as his broken ribs will allow, waiting for the doctor to hand him the forms.  She’s obviously hesitating, clutching at the clipboard so tightly her knuckles are white and she’s given Harvey more than one distrustful glare since they entered the room. Eventually though, as the nurse hovers about detangling IV lines and pulling off ECG sticky-pads, the doctor hands over the forms and a pen so that Mike can sign himself out. She takes them back from him a little forcefully, which causes Harvey to glare at her, but Mike just sighs in relief and leans back to allow the nurse access to the cannula in his elbow.

Donna knocks on the door and slides into the room just as the doctor is turning around to say something to Harvey. There’s a bag in her hand and a frown on her face as she glances between everyone in the room, and it’s obvious when she figures out what’s going on by the tight pinch of the lines around her mouth.

“You signed out.” It’s not a question but a statement as she comes to the side of Mike’s bed and sets down the bag on the chair. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t like hospitals.” Mike knows he’s whining, but he’s exhausted and in pain and all he wants is to get the out of the sterile hell-hole. “And Harvey said I can stay with him, so please stop worrying.” Donna visibly relaxes; reaches up slowly to run a hand through the front of his hair with a small smile.

“Not gonna happen, kid, but alright.” There is a distinctive huff from the doctor, who by the look on her face was hoping Donna would be her back up in the ‘Make Mike Stay In Hospital’ operation she clearly wanted to start.

“You will both need to step outside while we help Mr. Ross change and go through the things he needs to be doing at home.” She walks over to the door and opens it herself, staring between Donna and Harvey until they share an almost bemused look and head towards the corridor with a glance back at Mike each. It makes something in his chest loosen to know that they’re both looking out for him.

“There’s clean clothes in that bag on the chair.” Donna calls into the room just as the door is closing and Mike fights the urge to roll his eyes, wary of his headache. The doctor clearly is not impressed, but the nurse is in the process of rooting in the bag for a shirt to help him into once the hospital gown is on. The doctor is not as eager, crossing the room to stand by his bed. At least now her eyes have softened into something eager and sympathetic.

“Mr. Ross.” She’s whispering, which Mike thinks is unusual, until she leans in closer to continue talking. “Mr. Ross, I know you’re probably scared and disorientated right now, but if Mr. Specter is pressuring you into leaving with him, if he’s the one that did this to you, we can offer you some protection. You just need to let us know.” Her voice twists Harvey’s name into something distrustful, and he’s almost inclined to not trust her. She’s clearly against his boss with no good reason, and overly-eager for him to incriminate Harvey. It’s disconcerting.

“What? No! Harvey’s my boss, he’s never hurt me. I don’t know where you got that idea.” Mike splutters, causing her to pull back with a frown that straightens out into a blank face as the nurse helps Mike slip off the gown and the state of his body is revealed. He’s unbelievably grateful that Donna picked a button up so he doesn’t have to lift his arms, and that the nurse can manoeuvre it for him. It raises questions as to how he’s going to do this alone when he’s released, but he’ll ignore that for now.  The doctor doesn’t say anything as Mike pants and winces through the process of getting dressed, even with the help of the nurse, and then hands him a prescription for painkillers and leaflets about broken ribs, concussion, abuse centres and the phone number for a hospital endorsed therapist. He smiles politely, takes them all, and welcomes the moment Harvey and Donna are allowed back into the room, pushing a wheelchair with them so he can escape.

* * *

Getting Mike into the wheelchair was an ordeal in itself, the kid swayed as he stood, almost cried out in pain as he sat and jarred his entire body, he sat slightly forwards and obviously in agony as they wheeled him towards the exit with Donna at their side chattering on about how she’d gotten more clothes for him and left them at Harvey’s apartment. Mike turns his head up a little, throws Donna a little grateful smile that make’s Harvey relax a little.

“Thanks Don-“

“Mike!” A loud, rough voice breaks into Mike’s gratitude towards Donna that has the kid freeze in his chair as they approach the entrance to the hospital. Harvey is immediately on guard, stopping the wheelchair. Both he and Donna move so they’re either side of Mike, hopefully able to protect him. Harvey doesn’t know the man in front of them by about ten feet, the one who had shouted, but he can predict who he is by Mike’s reaction. And to be honest, he’s been waiting for this since they brought Mike into the ER. If Mike’s boyfriend was his emergency contact like he thought, then he was called hours ago, and it just adds insult to injury that he’s only just turning up now that they’re getting Mike out of the hospital and closer to safety.

“What the hell is going on?” The man in front of them growls out, taking a step closer to them. Both Harvey and Donna move at the same time, taking a step forward themselves to put themselves between Mike and this new, and old, danger. It’s obvious Mike doesn’t know what to do, mouth open in surprise, eyes terrified, body frozen.

“Who are you?” Harvey demands, feigning ignorance.

“I’m his partner.” Trevor informs them, taking another few steps forward. “And his emergency contact. And you are Harvey Specter, and you have no right to be here or helping him leave.” Harvey see’s Donna reach back, grasping Mike’s hand lightly, reassurance as Harvey takes a step forward as well. He will not be intimidated by this abusive low-life.

“Someone had to be, given he’s been in his hospital for almost five hours without you turning up.”

“I was busy, I got here as soon as I could.” Harvey has seen this change before, the portrayal of the caring partner, rushing to the hospital or to the rescue as soon as possible. He hasn’t fallen for it before, and he definitely won’t this time either. He watches as Trevor’s attention goes from Harvey to Mike, as he plasters on a fake, loving smile.

“I’m here to take you home, Mikey. You can tell me all about what happened.” Mike looks terrified, body trembling slightly, hand clenching around Donna’s hand.

“T-Trevor-“

“Come on, Mike.” Trevor’s voice hardens, his face shuts down and his eyes go cold. “Time to be going now.” Harvey turns to look at Mike, praying, hoping that the kid will stay strong just this once. Harvey will protect him if he asks, but he can’t do anything if Mike gives in to Trevor’s obvious hold over him. He won't do anything, definitely not attack the way his body is telling him to, if it could possibly put Mike in more danger.

It’s clear in the set of Mike’s shoulders, the defeat in his expression, the sorrow in his eyes as he glances up at Harvey. The feeling of dread growing in his chest tightens and weighs him down as he lets go of Donna’s hand. He can hear Donna’s whisper of ‘ _Mike, no’_ but he’s too focused on the abject terror in the eyes of his associate.

“Mike-“ He shakes his head, tears in his eyes, and turns to look at Trevor with a shaking smile.

“Sure, Trev, let’s go.” Harvey feels like it’s hard to breathe when Trevor, with a self satisfied smirk on his face, brushes past him and takes the handles of Mike’s wheelchair and begins to push him towards the exit. Donna and Harvey are forced to move out of the way, stuck watching as Mike leaves with the person that put him here in the first place.

“Harvey.” Donna chokes out as they watch Trevor roughly manhandle Mike into a cab outside the door. Harvey can’t tear his attention away, as Mike’s face turns to them, pale and tracked with tears he thinks are from the pain of Trevor having a grip over his broken ribs for a moment while he was pushed into the seat. He reaches out and wraps an arm around Donna’s waist, pulling her into him. There is a horrible coil in his stomach, crawling up his throat, as the cab pulls away.

“We’ll fix this.” Harvey tells her.

* * *

Donna curls up to him on his sofa as they both don’t watch the movie they put on and don’t eat the pizza they picked up on the way home. He can feel the tension growing inside of them both, the simmering anger and frustration and fear. Because if Mike ended up in hospital today after what would have seemed as perfectly average day, they can hardly stand to imagine what will happen after today.

Harvey can’t let go of the fact that Mike had obviously been in trouble since before the day he stumbled into that interview, if the bruise on his temple that day was anything to go by, and never said anything since they started working together. Surely, after everything, he knows that Harvey would have helped him. Surely he doesn’t think him cold enough to leave him in an abusive home, with an abusive partner, and to just not care.

But then, he thinks about all the times he heard worrying conversations Mike was having over the phone, the bruises the kid hasn’t quite managed to hide, the weight loss and the flinching, and understands why Mike didn’t come to him. Harvey knew, Donna knew, they were just too chicken to do a damn thing about it and went with it when Mike tried to hide it.

And now the kid was in danger, and there was nothing they could do about it. Calling the police would garner little results, Mike was clearly too terrified to speak out against Trevor, and going over to Mike’s apartment would cause more trouble. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Tomorrow-“ Donna croaks out, hoarse from crying, he’s been ignoring her slowly falling tears for an hour now. “We will hound his phone, his email, we’ll attempt fucking telepathy if we have to, to get in touch with him without getting him in trouble with that asshole.” Harvey nods, hums his agreement, brushes her hair back from her face.

“He’ll be okay until then, right?” Donna twists to look up at him.

“Right, Harvey?” He can’t answer her, he doesn’t know the answer, and he won’t lie to her and make promises that aren’t his to make and he probably couldn’t keep even if they were. Instead of answering her, he leans down and presses a kiss into her hair. Donna nods like she understands when he pulls away, drags the afghan down from the back of his sofa to cover them both and settles back against him.

* * *

Harvey and Donna go into work the next day, and get absolutely nothing done. Jessica says nothing as she stops by his office, he has his phone pressed to his ear for the fifteenth time this morning and he’s typing out his third email to Mike. Donna has been doing the same, but neither of them are getting results. He can feel the tension settle over them like a tangible weight, making it hard to breathe. It gets worse every time either one of them shake their head at the other when a phone call goes unanswered, an email unread. It’s a little after lunch when Harvey heads over to Mike’s cubicle. He thinks maybe there will be something there he can use to figure out where this Trevor’s apartment might be, anything, something that will help them get into contact with him. The other associates watch him with varying levels of confusion and suspicion until he leaves, the tension settling over another part of the office as he passes.

Rachel Zane is his last option for the day, before he relents to finding Mike’s apartment, or Trevor’s apartment, and fixing this himself.

“What can I do for you?” Zane smiles at him as he lingers in her doorway. He had once thought she and Mike would start dating, but clearly he was well off the mark with that one. 

“I was wondering if you’d heard from Mike today? Or if you had any other contact numbers for him beside his cell?” Her smile drops to a frown as he moves to sit opposite her at her desk.

“I haven’t. I figured he was still in the hospital?”

“He signed out AMA yesterday and went.. he went home. He’s just not answering the phone is all.” Rachel nods like she doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t call him on his bullshit either.

“I don’t have any other contact numbers for his directly, but I have the one for his grandmothers care home? He asked me to call once a week and find out how she was doing. I didn’t get why, but he seemed desperate so I did it for him.” She’s writing out the number as she speaks, oblivious to the way Harvey’s heart is jumping in his chest. He’d almost forgotten about the grandmother. Did Trevor have such control over Mike that the kid couldn’t even talk to his own grandmother? Make his own calls to her? That could possibly mean that he doesn’t actually have access to his own phone right now, which would explain the lack of response to both calls and emails. He takes the piece of paper offered to him on auto-pilot, and thanks Rachel, before leaving her office and heading back to his own.

The nursing home takes some convincing to let him talk to Ms. Edith Ross. Eventually, though, he is patched through to her room’s phone. She sounds like a kindly elderly woman over the phone, exactly what he imagined a grandmother should be like.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Ross. This is Harvey Specter, Mike’s employer. I was calling to see if perhaps he had been in contact with you today?”

“Oh, Mr. Specter? I didn’t know Michael had gotten a job. That’s excellent news.” She didn’t know? Harvey had employed Mike a month ago. Has Mike really not spoken to his grandmother in that long? If that’s so, where did his signing bonus go? It was meant for her care. There is a sick feeling building inside of him.

“I’m sorry, it’s been quite a while since I’ve heard from my grandson. Perhaps a little over a month now. Is there something the matter?” Harvey can hear the concern in her voice, and knows he can’t tell her the truth. She might be Mike’s family – although where the kids parents are at, he doesn’t know -  but that doesn’t mean he can break her heart with this news.

“Nothing the matter, he just didn’t turn up to work today and we’re a little concerned. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“That’s quite alright. You let Mike know that I miss him, when you find him.” Harvey swallows hard, looks up to find Donna standing inside of his office and watching him with watery eyes.

“I’ll do that. You take care of yourself.” Mike’s grandmother says goodbye as he is disconnecting the call, dragging his hands down his face and trying to brush away the tiresome worry that has plagued the last twenty four hours of his life. It’s remarkable, really, if Mike could see him now he’d make a joke about the great Harvey Specter actually caring. Harvey just wishes he hadn’t been such a bastard when he thought Mike was safe, maybe he’d be able to help more now if he’d been a goddamn better person.

“Harvey?”

“Mike’s grandmother hasn’t spoken to him for at least as long as he’s worked here.” He hears Donna’s heavy exhale, then the clack of her heels, before she’s beside him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go back to your place and not eat pizza, okay? We’re no good here, and we can keep trying to get in contact with him there.”

“Yeah.” Harvey agrees with a sigh, standing and leading her out of his office so she can grab her handbag and they can leave. It’s not the same here without Mike anymore, anyway.


	3. Harvey, please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter than the last two, but my internet connection is short lasting so I figured anything was better than nothing.

Mike doesn’t think he’s ever been this terrified. Trevor hasn’t actually raised a hand to him, or any other body part really, since he brought him home. The manhandling into the cab and out of the cab had been incredibly painful, but that was because Trevor was not gentle with his pre-existing injuries.

Since they got back to the apartment, Trevor hasn’t spoken a word to him. He deposited him on the sofa and then disappeared into the bedroom for a few hours, only coming out to get some food for himself.

The painkillers he’d been given at the hospital have worn off, maybe two hours ago, and Trevor hasn’t been to fill his prescription. He won’t go, Mike knows that, and now he’s in pain he didn’t think was possible. His vision keeps swimming in and out, he’s confused from the concussion and he can hardly move because of the blows to his stomach, the ache in his back, the broken and fractured ribs.

The next time Trevor comes out of the bedroom, he sits at the opposite end of the sofa, turns on the TV and ignores Mike completely. The look in his eyes is cold, his hands are clenched tightly beside him, but he’s not actually doing anything. It’s the anticipation, the tension, it’s coiling inside of Mike as he waits for the explosion. He thinks, maybe, Trevor is waiting for him to heal up so that the next time he goes to town on Mike he won’t actually end up killing him.

Mike wishes he’d been strong enough to stay with Harvey and Donna, gone to the relative safety of Harvey’s apartment where maybe he’d have food, and maybe they would have filled out his ‘script, and just maybe he’d get to sleep in a bed. It’s looking more and more likely that he’s going to be on this sofa until he can move himself, given that Trevor left him there the entire night after they got home and well into the next day, and that he’ll be getting no help at all from his supposed partner. He’s been able to hear his phone getting texts, calls, emails all day and he can only imagine how Harvey and Donna are feeling now that he’s been gone for so long without any contact. It hurts his heart to think that maybe Trevor will never let him out of this apartment again, that he’ll never get to go back to work, or see his grammy.

Mike hasn’t eaten in so, so long. Or, at least it feels that way, but it hurts far too much to move and Trevor would probably finally flip if he were to ask for something. So, it’s beautiful release when Trevor breaks out his personal stash, rolling up and smoking joint after joint less than four feet from where Mike was stuck.

Mike has plenty of experience getting half way to stoned purely by breathing in Trevor’s smoke. So as soon as that first joint is lit, Mike is taking as deep breaths as he can without causing the lancing pain to dance through his ribs. It’s three joints later when Mike finally feels like he’s inhaled enough second hand smoke to be more relaxed, and he shifts in his seat to test his pain. It’s still there, and it’s still close to impossible to work through, but Trevor isn’t done yet. And when he is done, Mike will hopefully be able to move to the bedroom for his phone, and to the elevator.

He’d been thinking about it, praying for it, all afternoon. Hunger roared in his stomach, he could feel himself becoming more and more dehydrated, his head throbbed, and he knew he needed to get out of here. He wouldn’t survive it this time, he’d pretty certain he’d rather die than let Trevor raise another hand to him in anger. So when Trevor had begun smoking, Mike had felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Trevor crashed hard, and slept harder, when he’s had enough. He’ll be out long enough and deep enough for Mike to call Harvey, beg him if he has to, to come and get him.

It takes another two joints smoked down to the roach for Trevor to finally start dropping off on the sofa, bent in an unusual angle that can’t be comfortable. It’s not the first time he’s done this, and on the other occasions he has beaten Mike the next day for letting him stay like that, but not this time.

One way or another, Mike will be out of this apartment by morning.

He waits an hour, listening to the depth of Trevor’s snores, the way he twitched and clenched his hands as he slept. He can feel the effects of the weed wearing off and he knows he needs to move, bracing himself on the arm of the sofa and pushing up oh so gently. He still has to bite his fist when he’s upright to stop from crying out, the pain in his lower back and across his ribs is impossible, but he has to keep moving. Mike’s phone is still in the bedroom, on the bed side table, when he gets there. It takes more than three times the amount of time it usually would for him to make the journey from the sitting room to the bedroom, but it’s sweet relief when his cell comes into sight.

There’s a moment where he considers making the call here, but it’s lessens the time he has to get out of the apartment and the sound of his voice might draw Trevor out of sleep. It’s not worth it, but it’s equally as terrifying as he takes one painful step after another until he reaches the door. The keys hang where they always do, a hook beside the door, and he slides them off as carefully as he can. They still jingle obnoxiously loud, and there is a terrifying moment when he hears Trevor snort and shift. His heart is beating so hard he feels sick, everything is hurting, and he can feel himself swaying in time to the rapid beats of his heart. He’s had no one to check on his concussion for more than twenty four hours, and if he had the mental capacity right now he’d worry about that, but for now Trevor has settled down again and Mike needs to focus on getting the door open and getting out of this apartment.

It’s so simple to turn the key, to leave through that door, and it’s so unbelievably terrifying to know that if Trevor woke up right now, or found him tomorrow, he’d probably die from the beating he’d be given. This is why he has been so terrified to leave, no matter how much he accepted that what was going on was wrong. It makes him hesitate in the door way, freedom on one side and fear on the other. He thinks about Trevor in the beginning, dinners and movies and making love, and he thinks about life before Trevor came to him, and he thinks about Harvey saving him time and time again, and how he’s never hurt him. Not like this. Not ever.

It’s easy to make his choice after that. Closing the door behind him, he leans against it breathing shallowly, hand shaking as he opens his phone to a mass of missed calls, texts, emails. Harvey’s number is his second most dialled, easy to find, and it’s sweet relief as he makes the painful effort to raise it to his ear, to hear the rings echoing along the line.

The voice is sleepy, panicked, relieved when the call is finally answered.

“’llo?” Mike can hardly breathe, the relief and the pain warring in his body. “Hello? Mike?!”

Mike feels like he’s choking, trying to talk past the thick, dry swell of his throat.

“Harvey.”

* * *

Donna had gone to crash on Harvey’s bed hours ago, worn out from worry, but he had stayed in front of the TV with a scotch and Star Trek re-runs. He can’t recall getting sleepy enough to doze off, but he must because his phone vibrating beneath his hand on the arm of his sofa shocks him awake. He fumbles for it, answers without looking.

“’Llo?” There is mostly silence on the other end, apart from pained and laboured breathing. There is a jolt that makes Harvey sit up straight, pay more attention, shakes the remnants of sleep from his frazzled mind.

“Hello? Mike?!” It’s definitely Mike, the sound of that choked off sob is exactly the same as the one that had echoed back to him when Trevor had forced him into that taxi.

“Harvey.”

He feels like he’s been punched in the chest. Air knocked out of him. The kid sounds like he’s in so much pain, his voice is dry and choked up and Harvey is so, so worried. He has been, since he left them at the hospital, but this is the first time it’s really registered just how much it’s been weighing on him. The not knowing was hell, the possibility of what could be happening was a bitter, sickening taste in his mouth and weighing down on his chest. He knows he has to keep calm though, get the kid to calm down and just _talk_ to him. Harvey takes a moment, takes a breath, moves quickly and is in his bedroom a moment later to shake Donna awake before he starts this conversation in case they have to move quickly. She wakes with a start, rolling over to look at him with sleepy eyes. Those don’t last long, when he points to the phone and mouths the word ‘ _Mike_ ’ to her.

Donna shifts over, makes space so she can lean heavily against him and listen to the conversation too.

“Hey, kid.” Harvey starts softly. “How’re you doing?”

There is a moment of silence, tension settling over them again, before they can hear Mike start to cry.

“Please, come and get me. Harvey _please_. He’s asleep, but I don’t have any money and everything hurts. It hurts, please. Please come and get me.” Donna is moving already, sliding on her shoes from the side of the bed and pulling on one of Harvey’s jersey’s over the vest and sweats she’d already taken from his drawer.

“Alright Mike. We’re coming. I just need to know where you are. Do you know the address?” Mike stutters, hums and croaks, wheezing painfully. Harvey has a moment to wonder if Mike got his prescription filled, if Trevor let him, if any of the leaflet advised things were kept to.

He doubts it.

“Yeah, yeah. 2546 East 13th. Brooklyn. Harvey please. You gotta get here before he wakes up. _Please_.” Donna is on the phone behind him, talking to Ray, who according to Donna’s relieved face has agreed to do a late night pick up for them.

“Alright, kid. It’s okay, we’re coming. Are you outside right now?” They’re already moving, in Harvey’s private elevator looking dishevelled and panicked. He wants to keep Mike talking for as long as possible. The kid has a concussion, a bad one, Harvey’s surprised he’s even this coherent.

“In-“ Mike gasps in pain, probably his ribs. “I’m in the elevator. I’ll be outside in a minute.”

Ray takes another five minutes after they get outside to arrive, and even he looks a little worse for wear at the late hour. Harvey gives him a grateful smile, rattles off the address Mike had given him as he climbs in behind Donna.

“Okay, is there anywhere you’ll be able to rest when you get outside?” He can hear the ding of the elevator in the background.

“I don’t know. Harvey. I don’t know!” The kid sounds on the edge of hysterical, and Harvey can hardly blame him. He tries to soothe Mike, leaves important questions behind in lieu of mindless chatter that makes Mike bark out painful laughs. There’s a horrifying moment of silence where he can hear Mike sliding to the floor, but not too long after when Mike’s voice echoes along the line.

“I- my head hurts. I sat down Harvey. Is that okay?” They’re maybe ten minutes away, but Mike sounds exhausted and Harvey doesn’t want him to fall asleep. He whispers to Donna, has her tell Ray to step on it.

“That’s fine, kid. Just keep talking to me alright? We’re almost there.”

“Okay, Harvey.”

* * *

When they finally get to the address, it takes five more minutes of searching outside of the building before they find Mike. The kid is crying softly, almost hyperventilating with the shallow breaths he’s taking in an attempt to stop the pain in his ribs. He doesn’t look like any more damage has been caused to him, but he clearly hasn’t been looked after.  Mike had half reclined against a wall between two bushes and he fucking grins when he sees them, through the tears and the pain.

“Donna-“ He gasps out. “Beautiful as always. You should dress like this more often.” Mike coughs out. She smiles down at him in amusement but the corners of her eyes and her mouth are tense. Harvey manages to sidle into the space between one bush and Mike, opposite side to Donna, and they both slide an arm around his waist, lower than his ribs to avoid too much pain.

“You’ve got to work with us here Mike, okay? We’re going to get you up and to the car, you can go to sleep for a little while then.” Mike nods sharply once, takes another shallow breath and uses his legs to push himself up as Harvey and Donna push lightly. Mike stumbles a little, cries out loudly at the pain the movement caused, but he powers through. They take short, small steps as Mike pants and whines, and it takes what feels like forever to reach Ray who is watching them with wide eyes and a hand holding the door open. Behind him, Harvey hears a door open and then slam shut loudly, a curse and then hurrying feet in their direction. He knows, has always known, that they wouldn’t be lucky enough to get Mike out of here without a confrontation.

Mike cries out again quietly as he settles down into the far side chair, Donna next to him, hovering and brushing fingers through before his messy blonde hair. Harvey is breathing deeply; turning and watching as a clearly high and very angry Trevor approaches them. As quietly as he can, he shuts the door to the car behind him so that Mike won’t have to watch this even if he can hear it.

“What the fuck is going on here, Specter!” Trevor slurs, reaching out to grab at Harvey’s shirt. He pushes him away, watches as the bastard stumbles and then rights himself.

“Mike! You get out here right now. You hear me! You remember what I told you.” There is no reply from the car and Harvey sighs in relief, wondering how much it would take to have to restrain Mike and stop him from leaving this time. He wouldn’t have let him go this time, wouldn’t have made the same idiotic mistake.

“Mike!” Trevor hollers as Harvey advances on him. The man doesn’t move, face red and breathing heavy, fists clenched at his sides.

“You need to get the hell back right now, and let us leave.” Harvey manages to keep his voice low and cool, not wanting to begin shouting and screaming for Mike’s sake.

“I’m not going anywhere, man.” Trevor barks out a harsh laugh. “You’re practically kidnapping my boyfriend, you better send him out before I call the police.”

Harvey can’t help it, the smug possessive look plastered all over this abusive assholes face is too much, too tempting. He has his hand fisted in the man’s jumper, fist connecting with skin and bone over and over until pain radiates into his wrist and he’s forced to stop. Harvey drops Trevor on his ass, nose bleeding, skin around his cheek and eye socket already shiny and red, promising a bruise if he’s lucky, broken facial bones if he is not.

“You stay the fuck away from him.” Harvey gasps out, taking a step back. “Don’t you ever think about coming near him again.”

Trevor doesn’t even look up, gasping and bleeding on the floor as Harvey climbs into the car and instructs Ray to get them the hell out of here.

* * *

“Okay.” He breathes out softly. “Okay.”

Harvey takes a look over at Mike, to see if the kid’s okay, but he’s slumped down onto Donna’s shoulder as much as he can. He can’t tell if he’s unconscious or just asleep, but he looks more peaceful than Harvey recalls seeing him in forever.

“Hospital or home?” Donna whispers, fingers still carding oh so gently through Mike’s hair. Harvey watches the kid for a moment, the almost steady rise and fall of his chest, the tiny whimpers still escaping him. He can’t explain how much he would rather not see Mike’s thin body swallowed up by a hospital gown again.

“Home.”


	4. Safety

If Harvey thought getting Mike upstairs and into his bed was difficult. Getting him out of it is downright impossible.

The kid is already awake when Harvey goes in to check on him at about half six in the morning. He’s laid like he was in the hospital bed, sheets pulled up to mid-chest, arms over the top at each side. The expression on his face is what gets Harvey. It’s completely blank, eyes dull and quiet, and although Harvey can tell the he is in pain, it’s only because his mouth is pressed into a tight straight line.  Mike isn’t making any noise, he isn’t moving beside the still-shallow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It’s disconcerting.

“Hey Mike. You need anything?” Harvey asks from the doorway to his own bedroom. He’s almost afraid to step inside.

“No.” Mike’s voice makes him want to wince. Empty and cold and so much not his associate it’s like there’s a different person laying there beneath his 1000 count Egyptian cotton. Harvey takes a hesitant step into the room, closer to Mike, in the hopes of seeing any kind of reaction from him.

“Something to eat? Some water?”

“No.”

“Did you get your prescription for pain meds filled yesterday?” Harvey is already pretty sure he knows the answer to this. Knows that the abusive asshole probably wouldn’t have even considered getting them for him.

“No.”  From where Harvey is standing, it almost looks like maybe this time Mike is going to elaborate, there is a wet sheen of unshed tears in his eyes and he’s mentally preparing for the breakdown that Mike is absolutely entitled to.

It doesn’t come.

Mike blinks away the tears. Goes back to staring dull and lifeless up at Harvey’s ceiling.  

“Okay then.” Harvey sighs, leaving Mike to whatever is going on in his head.

He is absolutely not prepared for this.

* * *

Harvey had called Jessica late last night to tell her that he and Mike were taking at least a week off, and that Donna’s presence around the office was probably going to be limited. It was the downright easiest vacation time he’s ever been granted.

They put up with Mike’s indifference and silent suffering for a day and a half before Donna decides she needs to get some air, giving him a look. One that he took to mean _‘make him talk before i get back or your balls are mine, mister._ ’ He hasn’t ever not obeyed Donna when a look like that has been sent his way.

Mike is in the same position as he has been since that first morning, and although Harvey knows it’s probably good for his recovery to not be moving around too much and causing more damage, it’s painful to see.

He takes a seat in the armchair to the left of his bed, dragging it closer so that he can talk to Mike comfortably. It feels like it did when they were in the hospital, awkward and worrying.

“Donna is worried about you.” It doesn’t get a reaction, and it leaves a sour taste in Harvey’s mouth that even now he can’t say what he actually means, that they’re both worried about him, that Harvey is worried about him.

“It’s not good for you to shut yourself away like this, kid. If you don’t want to talk to me, do you want me to set up an appointment with someone for you?” He could understand if Mike wanted to talk to someone impartial about this. Someone who is not already involved in Mike’s life and Mike’s wellbeing.

“No.” Harvey sighs. It’s all Mike’s said, except for the one time he accepted a glass of water when Donna asked. She was sporting a sad-pleased smile for about half an hour after that.

“Mike.” Harvey starts, but he doesn’t really know what to say. Apparently though, the Mike is on the verge of cracking. He has curled his un-injured hand into a fist; his breathing is more laboured than it was a moment ago. Harvey dreads to imagine how that feels for his injured ribs. Now is the time to start asking questions if he has any hope of trying to figure out what the hell is going on inside of his associates head.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harvey asks softly. He doesn’t want to push Mike, but the sooner the knowledge is out there, the sooner they can deal with the repercussions of it.

“About what?” Mike is trying to pretend that he doesn’t know what’s going on. Harvey gets that, he does, it’s just frustrating. This conversation is difficult for him too.

“You know about what, kid. I would have helped you out of this if I’d known.” The change is so swift Harvey feels a little whiplash, as Mike turns his head again and looks at him with eyes brimming with anger and tears.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t already know! Don’t pretend you didn’t see the bruises. I was scared, Harvey. I’m still scared. You knew already and you did nothing until I ended up in the hospital!” There is a heavy silence in the room that is suffocating. Harvey can see Mike’s chest rising and falling heavily, the twist of his face as the pain from his ribs lances through him.

“I’m s-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” Mike barks out with a desperate exhale that sounds almost like a hysterical chuckle.

“Really, Mike-“

“I don’t want your pity!” Mike explodes, wincing at the pull at his chest. Harvey really needs to get the kid some painkillers soon. He leans forward, one arm gripping the edge of his bed, the other outstretched towards Mike’s hand. He isn’t going to reach out a grab it, not if Mike doesn’t want support in the form of contact, but it’s there if he needs it.

“You don’t have my pity. There is nothing to pity. You have my support, and access to my home, and someone to talk to if you need it. But not my pity. You’re not pitiful, Mike. Not because of this.” The sound Mike makes is painful, like an aborted sob that he doesn’t want to let out.

“Why didn’t you do anything, if you knew?” Mike asks in a tiny voice, face angled away from Harvey. The question makes him wince, because it means admitting his faults and wrong doings, things that lead to Mike being unconscious on his office floor.

“I was ignoring it, because I didn’t want to see it, because I’m an asshole who can’t do good things. Maybe because I didn’t want to think about what it meant for you. Pick any option. None of them will ever excuse the fact that we did nothing about it sooner.” It startles a choked off, bitter laugh out of Mike. He turns his head back to Harvey, tears still wet on his cheeks and the pain-fear-wrecked look in his eyes is awful, but this is more than Harvey had even hoped to get out of this conversation and he’s not going to ruin it by looking away from the eyes of a man who has every right to look like that.

“Well, you are an asshole.” Mike concedes with a tiny smile, reaching out with his good hand and squeezing Harvey’s still outstretched fingers gently for a moment. He pulls his hand away but not far, there’s maybe half an inch between their fingers. Harvey doesn’t know what the feeling in his chest is when he remembers the feel of Mike’s cold fingers on top of his own, pushes it away for now to deal with at a later date.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be a mess, or a burden on you.” Mike whispers an undetermined amount of time later. Harvey nudges his fingers with his own lightly, flashing a small smile at Mike.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. And don’t you ever think like that. You’re not a mess, you were hurt and every reaction you’ve had has been completely justified. And you’re certainly not a burden. I’d rather have you here forever if it meant that asshole was out of your life for good.”

Mike stares at Harvey for a little while, searching his face for something, before he turns away a little. They sit in silence, arms still outstretched; as they let the past twenty minutes sink in, allow themselves to comprehend that actual breakthrough this way. Take it for what it was and begin to move past it. Harvey isn’t sure how long it is before Mike turns to him with a glimmer of his old smile, a little light back in his eyes.

“I think I could use some food now.”

* * *

Donna comes back with fast action Tylenol and take out chicken soup just as Harvey is helping Mike settle down onto the sofa. Mike offers her a pained smile when she grins blindingly at him, pulling out the bottle of painkillers and shaking them at him.

“You’re a goddess amongst peasants.” Mike wheezes at her, still trying to find some way comfortable to sit that won’t put too much strain on his ribs.

“Oh, I know. I brought chicken soup too, you think you could try some?” Mike nods, and Harvey is glad that she isn’t pushing for anything other than the simple things right now, not trying to figure out how Harvey managed to get Mike out of bed, why Mike is actually alive now, not just laying like a doll in Harvey’s bed.

“Painkillers first?” Mike asks quietly, smile dropping like he thinks maybe he’ll be denied. Harvey wants to find Trevor and make him feel every inch of pain Mike is feeling, the physical and the psychological. Donna softens her eyes, brushes her fingers so gently through his hair until Mike lets out a soft, relieved breath.

“Of course.” She hands over her bags to Harvey, shoos him to the kitchen with a sharp nod before settling down in the space beside Mike. He’s grateful for the reprieve, as Donna probably well knows. He feels exhausted. Like ten years have passed in the space of the last four days. He’s weighed down by the feeling on his chest, like he can’t breathe; every time he remembers Mike unconscious on his floor, small and swallowed in a hospital bed, hysterical outside of his abusive boyfriend’s apartment, every time he thinks about Mike’s hand on top of his and how remarkable it was to think that he should be grateful he even gets that, after everything he let Mike go through.

Harvey leans heavily against his kitchen counter, tries to breathe past it, and listens in half-heartedly as Donna asks Mike how he’s feeling. The kid murmurs something in response, and Donna whispers out an _‘oh, Mike’_ before he pulls himself together again. Hopefully, with some food in him and some pain medication, even if it’s not as strong as the stuff he should be on, Mike will be able to get some rest at last.

* * *

Mike does rest, letting Donna and Harvey lay him out on the sofa with pillows surrounding him and the pain medication just about kicking in. It’s nice, and he feels himself drifting quickly into sleep, and he’s unnerved by how safe he feels here. After years of feeling fear every time he let himself think about getting some real sleep he would be kept from any real rest by a now innate knowledge that although this day might have hurt, tomorrow will hurt more.

The rest doesn’t last for long, he thinks he’s been asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare wakes him screaming. He flinches back when he feels hands on his skin, can feel people watching him, and everything hurts. His throat hurts, his head hurts, his heart hurts.

“Mike.” The voice is soft, calming, feminine, nothing like his mind is supplying, nothing like what he expects. The fingers on his skin are so gentle, caressing instead of holding down. Mike tries to take a deep breath, remembers his broken ribs, and then tries again. It will help calm him down, but he also knows that taking them can help healing and prevent infection. He tries to concentrate on the facts of things while he gets his bearings back, tries to shake off the nightmare. Mike knows he’s safe, inherently, he just knows. That thought leads him to the knowledge that he is at Harvey’s, not with Trevor, and therefore it is Donna who is touching him.

Safe.

 He’s safe here.

Mike takes one last deep breath, pants quickly through the pain after that, and then opens his eyes to see a worried looking Donna knelt beside him and Harvey hovering behind her.

“Hey.” Donna whispers with a smile. “You doing okay now?” It’s a loaded question, but he knows what she means.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry for waking you guys up.”

“It’s only half six.” Harvey snorts without malice, smirking down at him from over Donna’s shoulder. Mike throws him a weak, shaky one in return and attempts to sit up by himself. He’s lifted maybe an inch before pain rips through him, dragging a hoarse cry from his throat and hot tears burning in his eyes.

His eyes are clenched, teeth gritted in pain, but he can feel Donna’s fingers gently brushing over his cheeks like she’s trying to catch the tears he isn’t letting go of. Harvey’s hands lay on the back of his neck, helping him lower back down slowly and rearranging pillows to cuddle in each side of him.

“I think I’m going to need something stronger than Tylenol.” Mike chokes out in a weak laugh.

“You don’t say.” Harvey mutters, turns to grab his phone off the table and hands it to Donna who’s hand is already held out to accept it.

“Dr Abbot, I know.” She once against smiles down at Mike before standing and heading in the direction of the kitchen. Harvey moves to lean against the arm of his own couch, and Mike feels a sting of guilt.

“Once I can actually move, I’ll get out of your hair. I’m sure there’s something I could afford-“ He can’t, that’s a lie. All of his money is in Trevor’s bank account. His face must fall further, because Harvey frowns at him, crosses his arms over his chest. It doesn’t look as defensive or angry the way it would make Trevor look.

“First, you aren’t going anywhere until I know you’re capable of moving without feeling any pain. At all.” Harvey looks completely serious, and Mike swallows convulsively. “Secondly, Mike, I know you have none of the money you’ve been paid.” His expression shifts to something unreadable.

“Harvey-“

“I got the number for your grandmother from Rachel, I know you haven’t spoken to her since you started working for me, which means you never moved her care facility.” Mike looks away. Doesn’t want to see the disappointment, or anger, or resentment on Harvey’s face. Mike knows for a fact that the extra money in his signing bonus, a bonus he’d known was too much the moment Harvey had offered it, had come out of Harvey’s own pocket. Knows Harvey only gave it to him because of his grandmother, because he seemed like a good grandson in a desperate plea to help her.

“Hey, stop that.” Harvey taps his ankle lightly, pulling his attention back to Harvey who looks faintly contrite and noticeably concerned. “I’m not angry, or whatever it is that you’re thinking. I just- I know you don’t want to talk about it Mike, but we need to act quickly here. The hospital, they have samples, I’m sure they have photographs, and I need to know. Are we going to the police? Because there is no other way to get your money back and make him pay for what he has done.” Mike feels his entire body clench up, joints locking and muscles tensing. When things got really bad, when Trevor stopped apologising and telling Mike he loved him, he had gone with scare tactics.

_No one will want you but me if you leave. You know that, don’t you? How worthless you are? How no one else could ever want you now?_

_If you go to the police, I’ll fucking kill you Mike. I will._

_Don’t ever think about leaving me. You got it? You leave me and bad things will happen, baby._

Harvey is watching Mike carefully, fingers tangled together in his lap.

“I-“ Mike coughs and winces. “It’s- a lot, Harvey. What if- I-“ Harvey reaches out slowly, lays gentle fingers over Mike’s wrist until he gets himself under control.

“What if what, Mike?” His boss asks gently.

“What if they don’t believe me? Or nothing happens to him? He- Tre- One time he told me if I went to the police he’d kill me.” Harvey can hear Donna suck in a gasp from the doorway behind him but ignores her, instead leaning forwards until he catches Mike’s eye.

“That asshole isn’t stepping anywhere near you ever again, Mike. You don’t have to be scared of him anymore.” Mike nods but looks away, sighs in the general direction of the window before talking in the quietest voice Harvey has ever heard from him.

“He knows I’m not really a lawyer.”

“Mike.” Donna sighs out sadly, stepping back into the room and settling in on the arm of the chair beside Mike’s head. Her fingers card softly through his hair, studiously avoiding the painfully swollen bump that is the cause of his concussion.

They sit in silence after that, lost in thought. Harvey eventually gets up from his seat, begins to pace around the room while Mike lets himself drift in exhaustion as Donna soothes him absently. It’s nice, he thinks, to have someone touch him so casually and know that it won’t lead to pain, has never been pain, that it’s pure and good and kind. He’s at his most relaxed in what feels like years, here on this sofa with these people he knows care for him, even if they haven’t said it out loud, that it’s easy to continue talking.

“I didn’t have control over anything.” Donna’s fingers pause in his hair, Harvey rests against the chair to the right of him, they wait for him to continue.

“He wouldn’t let me see my grandmother, or any of my old friends. I had to drop out of college. He told me what to wear, what to eat. Hell, he even told me when to eat. Every day I had to call him just before work, at lunch and just before I was leaving. Every part of my life was Trevor and now I don’t know what to do without him.”

Guilt lances through him, settling like a stone in his stomach, because talking like this reminds him  of times when Trevor wasn’t an abusive person. It reminds him of movie days and pizza dates and the way Trevor had just held him for six hours straight in a hospital waiting room after his parents had died.

“I loved him, and he hurt me. And now I don’t know how I am meant to live without him in my life. I don’t know what he’s going to do to me next.”


	5. Louis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait. I had surgery and my incision site didn't heal properly, and then my illness flared up and writing sort of got put on the back-burner. But here I am, and as a gift to all of you who have patiently waited, I supply you with ~nice guy!Louis Litt~

Mike becomes withdrawn and quiet after his little spurt of confession, and Harvey wonders whether it will become something he is going to have to get used to; this hot and cold version of Mike. Up to now, Harvey had always thought of Mike as a chronic over sharer of all things unimportant or otherwise, but the past few days have most certainly proven him otherwise. The worry niggling at the back of his head as he watches Mike sip just a little from the top of his cup of soup and then go back to staring blankly at nothing is that he doesn’t know how to deal with this.

Harvey somewhat understands Mike’s reluctance to talk to them, being constantly on guard for maybe saying the wrong thing and getting punished for it, but he imagines it could become an issue if Mike is repressing all of the things that asshole did to him over the years. On the other hand, however, there is a part of him that does not want to know all of the things Mike could tell them about. A part of him that wants Mike to just go back to being Mike; sarcastic and witty and scarily on point all of the time, for him to just let go of what has happened to him and move on. He knows it won’t happen, but he also is not excited for the inevitable backlash this is going to cause in all of their lives.

It’s a relief that Dr Abbot’s arrival puts a stop to his thoughts and Donna’s almost-overbearing fussing over Mike. She waltzes in through his private elevator, courtesy of Donna’s arrangements, and rounds onto Mike like she’s known him forever. Of course, she must have gotten an idea of what was happening when his assistant set up the appointment; non-threatening when she settles down to talk to Mike. Although the kid is still quiet and withdrawn and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, it is a relief when he talks to her.

“Mr. Ross. I’m Doctor Abbot, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Harvey watches her closely, notices the way she doesn’t lean in too close and keeps her voice even, not lowering it or making it gentler. He wonders if these are tactics he will employ, or whether Mike will need something different to other victims; the way he has needed something different from Harvey in every other aspect of their life together.

Mike gives her a smile that comes out more than a grimace and Dr. Abbot hums sympathetically.

“I’m not going to sugar coat this for you, Mike. You look like crap and honestly, I’m sure we’re both on the same page when I say I don’t want to re-hash everything you’ve been through. So instead, how about you just let me examine you and then i can get you a good prescription to get you through the worst of it.”

The kid stares at her intensely, eyes flickering over her face constantly in search for something Harvey doesn’t even know how to contemplate; anger? Hatred? Violence? He wonders how someone could live like this for any amount of time, or how he could have missed that it was happened every day in front of his eyes.

Eventually, Mike gives a polite nod.

“Okay.” Mike tells her, and hands over his soup to Donna when she appears again at his side to take it. Dr. Abbot stands, and Harvey notices that before she even lays a finger on Mike to help him lay out a little straighter she looks at him straight in the eye and waits for him to look between her hands and her face before nodding his silent permission.

Mike cries out in pain just once as he moves before Harvey has to leave the room.

* * *

When Harvey returns from his study about an hour later, Mike is slumped out on his sofa with a blanket covering him, His face is blissfully relaxed, obviously no longer feeling any pain.

“Dr. Abbot gave him a shot of morphine before she left, and apparently his new meds are being couriered over. Did you know that doctors who charge that much money can put in an email prescription to the nearest pharmacy? Because I didn’t, and also; that woman is about as scarily efficient as I am.”

Harvey resists the urge to drag his fingers through Mike’s messy hair while the kid isn’t aware enough to flinch away from him. Instead he turns to Donna and nods, letting her lead him into his kitchen and press a hot cup of coffee into his hands. He inhales deeply, lets the familiar scent of his expensive blend wash through him and settle him in a way he hasn’t felt in days.

“What did she prescribe him?” Donna takes the breakfast stool opposite him and pulls out her phone, looking for the list she was given.

“Tramadol for the next three days, then Dihydracodine for three days after that. After that she said no more opiates for pain relief. She also prescribed Macrolides as an antibiotic for any infections he might get in his chest because of the broken ribs and Fluoroquinolones as a broad spectrum antibiotic for anything else. Did you know Mike is allergic to penicillin?” Harveyshakes his head in the negative, but doesn’t think too much of it. There is a lot about Mike he doesn’t know, apparently.

“Okay, well, he is. So that’s why the other antibiotics. Now. I need to get home sometime soon, and I’m going to have to go into work tomorrow and rearrange your entire calendar. You need to be here while Mike is dosed up, and you need to keep a serious eye on his breathing. Okay? Harvey?” Her hand smacks solidly into his arm and he twists suddenly in her direction, only to be faced with Donna’s freaking out face.

“Sorry.” He breathed out, relaxing his fingers around his mug and trying to give her his full attention. “I was listening up to allergic to penicillin. Carry on.” Donna looks vaguely pacified, if only because she understands almost as clearly how he is feeling.

“I was saying. I’m not going to be here tonight and for at least half of tomorrow while I talk to your clients and rearrange your meetings. I’m going to have to soothe things over with Jessica to get you your time off. So you need to collect Mike’s meds from downstairs in an hour, and starting giving him the antibiotics when they get here. He can’t have any more pain meds until about 5 am tomorrow. And you have to keep a close eye on his breathing Harvey, okay? I mean it.” She reaches out to grab his hands, clings to them tightly between her own.

“You have to listen closely, because if he starts wheezing or getting raspy you have to take him to a hospital. It could mean an infection, or a punctured lung. So you have to listen, because I am not- I won’t- If he comes close to getting _worse_ while he is in your care where he’s supposed to be _safe_ Harvey I swear to God-“

Hearing the raising mania in Donna’s voice, he reverses the positions of their hands, folding both of her delicates ones between his. He rubs his thumbs over the ridges of her knuckles and waits while she takes a few deep breaths and her shoulders begin to lose some of the tension they had been slowly gathering over the past few days.

“I know how to look after broken ribs, Donna. Don’t worry about it, please. Go home, take a bath and relax. I’ll see you whenever you can come back tomorrow.” He waits until she breathes out one more time and gives him a tiny smile before letting go and downing the last of his coffee.

Both of them startle when Mike moans, listen as he shifts around a little on the sofa and lets out a little whimper. Donna is half out of her chair a second later, but Harvey stops her with a hand on her arm as, from around the corner of his fire place, he see’s Mike settle down again.

“Go home, Donna. I’ve got this.”

“Yeah.” She glances at him. “I know you do.” With an odd look on her face that Harvey doesn’t even want to start to decrypt, she gets up to collect her bag and coat before crossing the room to stand beside Mike for a second. He watches as she does what he couldn’t, running soft fingers through the soft spikes at the front of his hair before she waves goodbye to him and makes for his elevator.

Panic sets in seconds after she disappears, and he feels his hand twitch towards his phone to call her back. It takes longer than he would like to pull his barriers back up around himself, to pull himself together again and become Harvey Specter, Lawyer, rather than Harvey Specter, friend.

He does reach for his phone then, because although Donna will be in the office tomorrow, he needs help right now. He needs to talk to Jessica about everything that has happened, and then, against all good sense, he needs to contact Louis.

If he’s going to get at least some justice for Mike, he’s going to have to let one of the most moral men he’s ever known in on what might be Harvey’s own downfall.

* * *

Louis Litt has always prided himself of being a man of tradition and substance, but also credits himself with being a futurist and adaptable. However, the call from Harvey that invites him over to a condo Louis has heard about but never once seen, is a surprise. Mostly, because he knows that Harvey himself has many of the same qualities and has never, once in their entire career together, called to ask Louis for personal help.

The call comes when Louis is already in his car on the way home, but he redirects and heads towards the address he is given. A doorman allows him into a pretentious private elevator, which leads him up to a beautiful penthouse, where Harvey is pacing impatiently. The look on his colleagues face is unrecognizable; a mix of concern, anger and trepidation. Adopting a posture that hopefully is relaxed and reassuring, he steps off the elevator and strides to where Harvey has paused in waiting.

“Harvey, what could possibly be so important that you called at almost nine in the evening to visit the elusive penthouse condo?” The smirk that escapes Harvey is at maybe 6% of its usual intensity, and Louis can feel a pang of worry bloom in his gut.

Behind Harvey, where Louis can see a beautifully decorated apartment, there is a sound like someone gasping and choking, followed but cut off whines and then suddenly, Harvey is moving faster than Louis has ever seen. He drops to his knees, seemingly unconcerned about his ridiculously expensive clothes, and begins to fuss and soothe in a voice Louis has never heard over whoever was laid on the sofa. He crosses the room quietly, quite worried about who he might find there that Harvey would openly care this much about.

Harvey is smiling down awkwardly at the person on the sofa by the time Louis reaches them, not even paying attention to anyone else in the room.

“How’re you feeling?” Harvey asks. His voice is quiet but not quite gentle, like he doesn’t know how to manage it. A muffled groan escapes the other person, which sounds familiar somehow, and makes Harvey chuckle.

“Yeah, I bet kid. Listen, I need you to sit up and take these antibiotics for me and then you need to wake up a little more. We need to talk some things out.” Another vague noise escapes the other person which Louis can’t decipher, but makes Harvey frown but nod.

“No penicillin. I know, but you should have told me before it became something I’d have to worry about. Now come on, sit up.” Harvey moves, helps lift and position gently until a fluffy, dirty blonde haired head appears and things suddenly make much more sense.

Who else would Harvey care this much about, but Mike Ross?

* * *

“So, what you’re telling me is you committed fraud. Pulled Jessica and Donna into it with you. Could possibly have ruined the integrity of our _entire firm,_ and now you want me to try and get money from Mike’s drug dealing, abusive boyfriend without him implicating any of us in a crime that _you_ committed?”

“Ex- boyfriend.” Mike mutters, sleepy and doped up. Louis whirls on him, almost hysterical even though Harvey is giving the kid a proud, tiny smile that he can’t even see.

“That is not the point!” Louis snaps, taking a step towards Mike with his fists clenched together. Mike shrinks back into the sofa with a whimper, screwing his bruised eyes closed tightly. He looks like he is anticipating being struck and Louis feels uncharacteristically sympathetic bubbling under his anger. Harvey is out of his chair quickly, standing between Louis and Mike like a human shield.

“You need to calm the hell down, Louis. No matter how angry you are right now, Mike is-“ Harvey cuts himself off with a hiss, turns slowly to kneel by Mike. Louis watches awkwardly while Harvey coaxes Mike into opening his eyes again and calm down from his panic.

“It’s okay, Mike. Louis wouldn’t hit you, not ever.” Louis sighs, takes a step back slowly and takes a deep breath and turns away from the scene in front of him. By the time he turns back around, Harvey is helping Mike up from the sofa, and Louis watches as he escorts the kid into a room off to the right. He takes a seat in one of the armchairs to wait for Harvey to come back, watching as the man shuts the door quietly and turns to lean his back against it with a weary sigh, dragging his hand down his face.

“Harvey-“

“Listen, Louis.” Harvey cuts him off. “I know you’re angry. We did a stupid thing, but even if you can’t forgive this and won’t help him, at least let him recover and get back on his feet before you report us to the bar. He might be unqualified, but he’s still been in a god-awful, _abusive_ relationship for who knows how long. He just needs some calm time. Please?”

Harvey Specter is begging him. Louis’ mind short circuits, cuts off at the sound of a plaintive _‘please’_ that isn’t even for his own well being. In his mind he replays the last few minutes of interactions between the senior partner and his associate, thinks about how Harvey had looked at Mike when the kid wasn’t looking. He thinks about how different Harvey acted, gentle and caring while Mike freaked out, and about how his arm had curled soft but possessive around Mike’s waist as he escorted him into the bedroom to rest.

“Louis, for goodness sake, say something.” Harvey’s voice, snappish and tense, yanks him out of his thoughts.

“You’re in love with him.” It spills out of his mouth, unbidden, but not regretful. It’s kind of wondrous, because up until this moment Louis had thought the only people Harvey Specter would love were himself and Donna. Harvey’s face darkens immediately, his body language switching from beaten and weary to defensive and angry.

“He’s an abused kid that works for me and happens to share a pretty illegal secret. I don’t love him. Keeping him safe keeps me safe.” Louis nods, smirking a little.

“Of course. You keep telling yourself that.” Harvey looks like he’s about to argue again, but Louis lets himself sag into the chair, lets his anger spill into concern. Not only for Mike and his situation, but for what it would do to his beloved firm if their secret got out. Louis couldn’t report them to the bar and expect Pearson Hardman to come out unscathed, which means the only other option is to protect it and everyone affiliated as safe as possible. If that means getting justice for Mike on the side, then so be it.

Nobody deserves to have gone through what that kid had gone through, what he will be going through for a long time from now, no matter what destruction he could have brought to all of their lives.

“Get me that assholes name, number and social security number from Mike and I’ll see what I can do.” He stands, gathers his jacket and briefcase. Avoids looking directly at Harvey’s relieved, confused face as he heads for the elevator once more.

“But Harvey.” He pauses, hand on the button to take him back down to the lobby. “You’re going to owe me for eternity, and if you ever do get caught out, I’ll sell you out to save myself and the firm before even giving you and the associate a second thought. Understand?”

“Understood.” Harvey’s voice is grateful, and even though the man can’t see his face, Louis smirks before disappearing into the private glass elevator. The situation might be beyond messed up, but Louis is one up in their endless game of battles and favors.

Silver linings, and all that.


	6. Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe when I said slow build I meant the way I was writing and not the characters???? I am very sorry for how long this took, I am very sick in real life and it impacts my ability to keep up with my writing sometimes.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Mike isn’t sleeping when Harvey opens the door to check on him an hour later, after giving himself some time to absorb the past day of information and favours. Instead, the kid is laid on his back with his head elevated on all of the pillows on Harvey’s bed. Mike’s fingers are tangled in the blanket Harvey had given him before leaving to talk to Louis, and he looks pensive and frustrated all at the same time. With an almost silent sigh, he moves across the room to perch on the bed beside Mike’s feet, crossing his legs Indian style once he’s turned towards where the kid is laid.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” His hands reach out without thought, untangling Mike’s fingers from the blanket so that he can smooth it out.

“Couldn’t.” Mike replies in his croaky-soft voice, fingers instead trying to curl up into themselves. Harvey just nods with a hum, lets them sit in semi-silent twilight for a while.

“Are you in any pain? I can’t give you anything else for another three hours and your antibiotics aren’t for another six.” Mike shakes his head, and Harvey resists an eye-roll when the move obviously aggravates the kid’s not-yet-healed concussion.

“Alright then-“ Harvey says around a cough, the fake kind that people use to break tension when they’re feeling nervous. It’s not something he is used to experiencing, and he has to force away thoughts about why this one trouble-causing man-child can bring it out in him.

“So what’s up then? Something obviously is, if you’re fighting opiates to keep your eyes open.” He reaches out again, pries the blanket from Mike’s fidgeting fingers.

“I just-“ Mike swallows, refuses to meet Harvey’s eyes. “How much time do we have before Louis reports us to the bar and any other authorities? Because I need time to pull myself together a little before I have to go in front of an investigator or a committee. And we need to come up with some story where you only found out when I ended up in the hospital so that the trouble you and Donna are in isn’t –“

“You’re such an idiot, sometimes.” Harvey interrupts with a laugh, relieved that these are at least doubts he can put to sleep, so that maybe Mike can _get_ some sleep. Mike stutters against a flinch when he’s cut off, but raises his head to look straight at Harvey so he doesn’t feel too guilty about it.

“Louis isn’t going to report us because he’s not a fool. He’s actually quite intelligent. Louis knows that reporting us will drag the firm’s name through the mud and he wants to protect Pearson Hardman more than he wants to score points against me.”

“I- I don’t-“

“He’s going to help you get your money back, and get some justice Mike. Louis is going to _help_.”

There is a moment of utter stillness where Harvey can see Mike painfully holding his breath before it whooshes out of him with a slightly hysterical laugh following not far behind. Tears that Harvey was almost expecting follow and Harvey just waits him out while the kid makes almost funny attempts to pull himself together. Eventually, when the half-giggles half-sobs fade off into soft snuffles, Harvey gets up to pass Mike a tissue and smiles when red puffy eyes meet his.

“We’re not in trouble?”

“We’re not in trouble Mike. You’re going to be okay.”

* * *

Mike insists on sending Louis the email himself, slowly tapping away on Harvey’s phone as he drags up all of Trevor’s information from the depth of his mind. Along his way through the passages of his strange mind, all the ones that are labelled ‘Trevor’ in his filing system, he has to try hard to remember memories that would make him scream and cry and panic. He has to avoid the images of Trevor at the start, loving and gentle, kind and soft. It takes a lot of energy, but he feels okay once he’s gotten all the information down and sent to the one person who could possibly help him at all.

Harvey tells him that he’ll let him be while the email is under construction, but the man’s head keeps popping around the door. Mike knows it’s to check on him, but it’s always under the guise of asking if Mike needs anything, something to eat or drink, to use the bathroom maybe? Mike blushes at that one, remembering needing the man’s help the last time he had tried to go, still unsteady on his feet and woozy from the stronger drugs that Harvey’s doctor gave him.

Mike signs the email of with effusive gratitude, unable to fully express how fucking _thankful_ he is to Louis for this.

Harvey makes jokes about having to delete the email from his sent box, so that there is no proof of them dragging Louis into their ring of criminal behaviour, but the tension around his eyes and in the lines of his forced smile tell Mike all he needs to know.

In his head he vows to find some way to make this up to them all, one day, and out loud he laughs half-hearted along with his boss and agrees to try and eat some more of the soup Donna brought over.

Food is - not easy. With Trevor, Mike ate when and what he was told or faced the consequences. Usually, it was scraps of whatever Trevor had been eating, and that meant he was used to sandwich crusts and, if he was lucky, the vegetables that Trevor hated but always got on his pizza. When he had started working with Harvey, Mike had managed to sneak a hot dog or two when he was on a working lunch, and there was that one night they stayed at the office very late and Harvey ordered sushi for them. Mike hates sushi, but he knows better than to turn down food when it’s offered, because it can just as easily been taken away.

The late night at the office had resulted in a beating that Mike felt for weeks and sleeping on the cold wooden floor for longer than ever before, but it was still a good memory for him. All that safe, warm time with his boss. It had been something to cling to.

Mike must have drifted off into his memories, because he flinches and jumps a little when Harvey taps him gently on his hand, the one holding his still and empty spoon. Harvey’s face is twisted in some concern, trying to hide behind a twisted parody of his usual superiority.

“Sorry. “Mike mutters quietly. “Must have gotten lost in here.” He taps his temple with his spoon, winces when he brushes his bruise with the cool metal. Harvey nods like he understands, even though Mike knows he doesn’t.

“You haven’t eaten much.” Mike will forever be grateful for Harvey’s innate need to bypass difficult or scary conversations. He glances down at his soup only to notice he’s only eaten maybe four or five spoonfuls.

“Not hungry I guess. The painkillers make me a bit nauseous and I’m not really used to having much to eat anyway.” Mike replies, carelessly really. Beside him he can feel Harvey freeze up for a second, before his soup is taken gently from his hands and both of their bowls are set on the bedside table.

“I thought you were underweight because of the stress and emotional-stuff. Not because he _wouldn’t let you eat_.” Shrinking into himself a little at Harvey’s cold, calculated tone, Mike refuses to raise his head to look at his boss.

“I- I told you he had complete control over me. No friends, no food, no- no Grammy.”

Beside him, Mike can hear Harvey breathing in slow and deep through his nose. It’s his way of calming down, something Mike is familiar with from time spent with difficult clients and their idiotic issues and rich-people demands.

“I’m sorry.” Mike says, honest and a little fearful, because that’s what he always does when the person next to him is angry. He apologises and hopes for the best. Harvey is up and off the bed like a shot, and Mike tracks the tops of his legs around the bed without lifting his eyes to actually look at the man. Eventually, Mike can’t avoid Harvey’s face, because his boss crouches down beside the bed and twists into a position that means he is exactly in Mike’s eye sight and yet not in his face. It’s – reassuring.

“You have nothing – absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Nothing he ever did is your fault, and you will never, ever apologise for the brutality that _man_ inflicted on you. Okay?” Harvey’s voice is still verging on cold and calculated, but Mike can hear a fierce heat behind them that he only knows from cases that Harvey has been passionate about.

Harvey must know that Mike has a good view of him from his downturned gaze, because he lets his hand move slowly towards Mike like he knows he is watching and will let him know if he doesn’t want the contact. Mike allows it, but it still takes some time before Harvey’s finger touches his chin, lifts his head up slowly until they’re eye to eye and it’s impossible to look away.

“None of this is your fault, okay?” Harvey’s eyes are fierce and truthful and for the first time in such a long, long time Mike believes it.

“Okay.” He nods in return.

* * *

Mike falls asleep quickly after his next dose of pills and Harvey is quiet as he takes their bowls and cutlery into the kitchen. He rinses his own out quickly, but ends up staring intently at the food that Mike left. He can feel anger and frustration building in his chest, tingling in his fingers and travelling along the lines of muscle that scream for something to take their restlessness out on.

It’s not just his anger and his hatred for Trevor, although that does play a huge part, but the helpless feeling growing in his chest whenever he is around Mike and new facet of his abusive relationship emerges. It’s the fear he feels when Mike’s eyes go glazed and empty and his whole body twitches, and Harvey knows that Mike is _remembering_ but he can’t touch him to bring him back because Mike doesn’t like being touched without having advanced notice of it, even if he hasn’t said as much out loud.

Harvey doesn’t know, and that is a new feeling for him, but he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when this gets worse. And it will, because Mike had only been with him coming up four days and most of that has been spent focusing on injuries and physical pain and trying to just make him smile again. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when that turns into nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks. And those are all things that will happen, he knows. Even people with normal brains experience those after the kind of experiences Mike has been through, but this kid is going to remember every single second of what that monster did to him and he has no hope of it ever becoming any less clear in his mind.

Harvey doesn’t know what he’s going to do when that happens, when all they have to focus on is the mental and not the physical.

He’s terrified.

His hand flies out without him even thinking about it, and the bowl goes clattering and cracking into his sink, spilling pale soup against chrome and white bowl fragments. For a second he just watches it with a sick kind of pleasure at the destruction just the tiniest flick of his hands can cause, imagines the damage he could inflict on all of the people who have hurt Mike in the past.

The next second he’s worried he has woken Mike, and freezes as he listens for any signs of distress of movement. There isn’t any, but his heart rate is still through the roof.

He really doesn’t know how he’s going to do this.

* * *

Donna is already sat in Jessica’s office when Louis arrives in the morning, and he enters without knocking. It earns him a scowl from Jessica and wide eyes from Donna as they both swivel on the sofa to stare at him. However, high from his knowledge and the favour he now holds over Harvey’s head, he pays it no mind. It’s not like he doesn’t know what they’re talking about anyway, and it’s exactly why he is here so early in the morning too.

“Louis, have we forgotten what the use of a door is?” Jessica’s crisp voice cuts into his internal monologue.

“Jessica, I had hoped to catch you before the work day started.” He begins, crossing the room and ignoring her pointed question and disapproving look. “Donna can stay, given that this matter obviously concerns her also.”

“Oh, she can, can she?” Jessica replies sarcastically as Louis sits himself on the edge of the arm chair opposite them.

“It’s about Mike.” He ploughs on, knowing that if he takes a second to let his usual nervous, fearful issues interrupt his train of thought he will hesitate himself right out of the building. Donna lets out an involuntary gasp, but when he takes a second to glance up at her she has plastered on the blank face he hates so much to see on her. Jessica has straightened, back and shoulders tense in a way he has rarely seen.

“Relax, both of you. Harvey had me come over last night. I saw for myself the state Ross is in, and then he explained the whole _situation_ to me. I, graciously, agreed to help Mike get his money back and therefore get some justice. God-knows there’s no other way for his-“ Louis gestures his hand as he looks for the word. “Partner.”

Jessica and Donna share a look, one that he and probably most other males in this office have come to fear and respect in equal measure.

“And why, exactly, would you do that?” Jessica asks coolly, carefully. Louis shrugs, pretends to be checking out his new manicure.

“I’d rather help Mike on his way to recovery and keep the company I love’s name out of any scandals. “ Jessica looks pleased, or as pleased as the woman ever does look when someone else has done something that wasn’t checked through her in the first place. Donna however, snorts as she stares at him.

“And it gives you something to hold over their heads for the rest of their lives.” Instead of waiting for him to reply, she stands and turns on her frighteningly competent heals to look at Jessica.

“I need to get back to the boys, but you’re okay with everything we discussed this morning and last night?” Jessica nods, murmurs an _‘of course’_ quietly under her breath before waving Donna out with a wave of her hand. Leaving just the two of them together.

Louis feel himself shrink a little under the weight of her intense glare, having been under that spotlight too many times for comfort.

“I understand.” She begins, voice icy and powerful. “That you’re doing something that benefits all of us in the long run, but if you even think about using such a _dreadful_ circumstance to hold a favour over Harvey and Mike’s heads, I will have you on pro-bono _for a year_. Do you understand?” Louis boggles at her a second, mouth opening and closing at her before she scowls at him, eyes become colder and colder with each passing, silent second.

“Of course not.” Louis finally agrees quickly, standing and beginning his move back towards the door he had barged in through just five minutes ago.

“Hmm.” Jessica hums. “I should hope not.”

It’s silent once again as he reaches the door, hand on the handle when her voice cuts through the air once again.

“And Louis? If you ever barge in here without permission, especially when I am obviously in a private meeting, ever again. I’m giving Harold your office and moving you to the bullpen.”

Louis hurries away, leaving Jessica smirking into her otherwise empty office behind him.

* * *

Harvey had text Donna early in the morning after tossing and turning on his sofa. He does have a spare room, which is really where he should be putting Mike, but with Mike in his room he didn’t want to be so far away in case anything was to happen. He doesn’t sleep well, despite the quality of his furniture, and so gets up early to hit the building gym for half an hour and get in a shower before Mike is due some more antibiotics and painkillers.

He’s not tired, which is odd after such a terrible night, but the adrenaline of yesterday is still flowing and he has what feels like energy to spare. He wonders how long he’ll feel like this before it all gets too heavy and too much and he starts to crumble under the strain of keeping Mike _up up up_.

Donna turns up at thirteen minutes past eight, although he knows she’s already been into the office to talk to Jessica. He doesn’t know when he started keeping such a close eye on the time and people’s coming and going, but he’s almost certain it means he needs to get out of the apartment for a little while.

She dumps her bag and coat on a breakfast stool, kicks off the ridiculous footwear of the day and settles down beside him with her take-our mocha and a deep sigh. He turns to her, just a tilt of his head, and waits for her to get whatever is bothering her off her chest.

“You could have told me you were telling Louis so I could have been prepared when he burst into Jessica’s office – without knocking – to declare that he knew all and was saving everyone. Really Harvey, I know it seems like it sometimes, but I not psychically linked to you and do not always know or understand what you are doing!”

“He didn’t knock?!” Harvey exclaims, turning fully to face her like this is the most juicy office gossip he’s heard in a year (the most juicy gossip was the Mickael on 40th was cheating on his wife with Gilligan on 42nd. A balding, middle age man with a beer gut. There had been deliciously hilarious drama for weeks.)

Donna rolls her eyes at him so hard he thinks she might give herself a strain, but then she laughs and snorts around a mouth of chocolate-coffee goodness.

“He was acting like nothing could touch him; Jessica was humorously cold and condescending with him. You know the drill, Harvey.” She sighs, and Harvey often has this feel in his gut, like he isn’t good enough for her and she is too good for all of them. A fiercely loving fighter in a pool of emotionless sharks.

“I just wish you’d told me, before you went and possibly destroyed all of us, y’know? But I guess it’s done and over with now, and he’s agreed to help. So, nothing to complain about really.” Harvey hums in agreement, steals her coffee to sip at even though he hates it when it’s this sweet.

“How is he?” Donna continues, nodding towards Harvey’s bedroom door. He had woken Mike twenty minutes ago to give him his next dose of medication and the kid had fallen back asleep almost immediately, dark bags under his eyes make Harvey’s chest hurt and his fingers itch again.

“He’s okay.” Harvey replies eventually. “Sleeping. I need to get out of here for a while before I start to get cabin fever though. Can you stay with him for an hour?” Donna nods, squeezes his hand for a second as she takes her coffee back. Harvey lets himself relax into the familiar touch before pushing up off the couch to grab a jacket and throw on some shoes. He makes sure to drop a kiss to Donna’s head and makes sure not to feel too guilty about leaving as he walks past the door separating him and Mike.

He just needs to get out for a while, is all. It’s not running away. Harvey Specter doesn’t run away when things get difficult. He doesn’t.

He doesn’t.


	7. Fighting Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I am so sorry this took as long as it did. It had been in the works for a very long time, but I have gotten increasingly worse health wise; then I took a holiday, got a bunny and have been very busy. This isn't a chapter I'm particularly happy with but is about as alright as it's going to get while I get my grove going again. I hope it's okay for you xox

Okay, so, it would seem he does run away when things get difficult. He knows he told Donna an hour, he can recall it as clear as day as he stumbled out of the dungy, dark bar almost six hours later. It’s not the first place he went, instead taking a stroll through central park and stopping for coffee, giving himself some time to breathe. He had found a bench to rest on, people watching for a while until he saw the bar across the street open up at almost eleven and decided, what the hell, it had to be a reasonable time to start drinking somewhere.

It had been a long few days, since the hospital, and Harvey had bemoaned the sudden and horrific change in his life over some cheap whiskey and the occasional even cheaper beer until it was almost three in the afternoon and the barkeep cut him off with a quiet _‘I don’t know what your damage is man, but it’s the middle of the day. Go home and sleep it off.’_

Harvey had glared at the man’s back for a good thirty seconds, cursing him, until he realised what he was doing and figured that, yeah, maybe he should go home.

Except home was where Mike was, and that is the exact reason why Harvey was getting kicked out of low-brow bars in the middle of the day.

Sighing, Harvey dug his phone out of his jacket pocket, wincing when he realised it had died at some point while he had been out and wondered, with some trepidation, how many calls and texts and voice mails Donna had left for him. He could imagine it now, increasing in pitch, in anger, in disappointment. Sighing once more, he pocketed his phone and tucked his jacket around himself, setting off across the park at a slow stride back towards his building. Hopefully if he went home now, he could offset any of the major damage that Donna could inflict upon him and his life without being stumbling, unable to talk drunk.

* * *

Donna had let the hour pass, unconcerned, and left her first text at the two hour mark. At two and a half, after checking in on a still-sleeping Mike, she had made some calls into the office in the hopes that Harvey had gone there and gotten caught up in something work-related. It had happened before, a few times in fact, but she had no such luck this time.

At the four hour mark, Mike woke up. It was later than Donna had expected, or wanted really considering he had been due his meds a while ago, but it also meant she would have to explain where Harvey had disappeared off to.

Mikes voice had been croaky, calling out for Harvey with a wince and a whine following quickly behind. Donna had hurried in, pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other, trying to appear unconcerned and not as flustered as she felt.

“Where’s Harvey?” Mike asked, struggling to force himself upwards. Donna tuts at him, setting down her items to help him arrange pillows and settling him back so that he can sit upwards somewhat.

“He went out on some errands, I don’t know what time he will be back but he left me in charge, mister. So, take these.” Donna handed over the pills and water, helping him hold the glass to his mouth when he winced at the jarring in his ribs. His face relaxed as he sipped at the cool water, and Donna let herself smile a little down at him. Worry over Harvey would have to take back seat right now, whatever that emotionally-stunted fool was doing right now wasn’t nearly as important as the kid in front of her at this moment in time.

“You hungry? Need anything else?” Mike flushed, red shining from his cheeks and down along his neck, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“I.. I’ll wait for Harvey to come back. It’s alright.” Donna frowned at him, hands migrating naturally to her hips so that she could promptly exclude disapproval, a move she usually reserved for when Harvey was being particularly idiotic. It will probably come back into play when, if, he turned back up today.

“I don’t know when Harvey is going back. Just tell me what it is so that we can work past the embarrassment and get along with our day.” Mike flushed deeper, red heating his face, eyes clenching shut for a moment before he began staring pointedly towards his knee’s.

“ _I really need to pee_.” Mike forced out, rushed on one breath. He wouldn’t look up at her, fingers fidgeting slightly with the blanket covering him. She huffed out a laugh, taking a step towards the bed.

“Mike, I am a thirty-two year old woman with three nephews, an elderly father and a CV which includes an internship in an old-folks home. You needing help to stand over a toilet is not even a step towards the embarrassing and/or awful things I’ve had to do. Now, come on, up.”

Still blushing, Mike let her help him up out of bed and hobble slowly towards the bathroom. He still wouldn’t look at her, and she could feel the heat of his blush where their skin met. She helped him drag his sweatpants down, laughing as he wiggled like an embarrassed child. She then politely looked away, still supporting his wobbly legs, until finally she got a little frustrated with waiting for him.

“Mike? Are you gonna- y’know?” He sighs, obviously annoyed with himself.

“I don’t think I can, with you standing right there. I’m sorry.” Donna stayed quiet for a moment, before settling back into her usual mode of problem solving and people managing.

“Okay, so how about you sit, for now? I’ll wait outside until you need back up and then – Voila. All done.” Mike considered it for a moment before nodding, throwing her a grateful but embarrassed smile before they began to work together to turn around and sort themselves out before Donna left the room with a _‘call when you need me’_ behind her.

* * *

Harvey stumbled in a little after four, looking dishevelled and stinking of cheap alcohol and sweat. Donna was in the kitchen, preparing tea for Mike and a sandwich for herself. She stared at him, steeping a tea bag while he stumbled around hanging up his jacket clumsily and toeing off his shoes. She didn’t even think he had realised she was here watching him, until he spun around dizzily and froze at the sight of her.

She could imagine what expression would be right now, twisted into anger and disapproval and disappointment. He frowned at her, fingers buried deep in the pockets of his expensive pants.

“So, sorry I’m late.” Harvey mumbled, voice a little slurred. Donna closed her eyes tightly, setting her hands flat on the kitchen counter and breathing deeply. Counting to ten and making sure she had her frustration under control, Donna finally opened her eyes again and stared at him. She was sure it came off as more of a glare, but at least she hadn’t started shouting yet. That was a blessing.

“Late would have been four hours ago, Harvey. This isn’t late; this is almost- almost neglectful! It’s the middle of the afternoon and you’re drunk, and Mike has been asking for you all goddamn day.” Instead of raising her voice, knowing it would freak Mike out beyond levels she felt able to cope with right now, Donna lowered it into a fierce hiss that had Harvey stepping back a step. His mouth was opening and closing, looking for something to say but Donna cut him off before he could even start; stalking around the kitchen counter and across the living room until she could jab him sharply in the chest with a pointed fingernail.

“You are a selfish, idiotic and drunken fool who made promises to a vulnerable kid that he couldn’t keep for even a couple of days. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but this isn’t the Harvey Specter I know. The Harvey I know would have fought tooth and nail to keep himself upright and fighting until the problem or the situation had been resolved. The Harvey I know would be striving for some kind of justice, not hiding in a bar for the better part of a day to avoid his responsibilities. Whatever this version on you is, I don’t like it, I won’t stand for it, and I’m disappointed in you for it.”

“Donna – Donna please...” Harvey mumbled, unable to meet her eyes, flinching as her nail dug into the skin of his chest. She scowled at him, even though he won’t see it, before dropping her hand and taking a few steps back. Donna was too tired, too worried, too everything for this right now. Harvey would just have to deal by himself right now, because she had too many other things going on to cope with his neurosis’.

“No. You know what, Harvey? Go somewhere else and sober up. Come back when you can behave like a compassionate human being again.” Donna sighed out, turning without looking at him and heading back towards Mike’s tea. It would probably be over-steeped by now, but she doubted that Mike was neither a connoisseur of tea nor actually much in the mood for it.

“I was scared, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I was scared and I didn’t know how to cope so I acted like a dick. I’m sorry.” Harvey’s voice hissed across the room at her, barely audible if she hadn’t been listening for any reaction from him. She froze, not turning to look at him; afraid that it would startle him into silence, or running again. Like a scared little kitten that will only come out from behind the sofa when it thinks you’re not looking, Harvey will only talk about his _emotions_ if you can’t see his face while he’s doing so.

“Scared of _what_ , Harvey? This is _Mike_ we’re talking about; he’s like a scared, vulnerable puppy.”

“It’s not about Mike, Donna!” Harvey’s voice raises a decibel and an octave, a sure sign of impending hysteria. “It’s about what Mike is bringing. All this uncertainty and change and _fear_. I like my life steady, challenging but familiar. None of this is _familiar_ , Donna! None of this is my normal and I needed a couple of hours to equalize. I’m sorry if that doesn’t suit your view of how I should be coping with the very sudden change in my life but I just needed a few hours, okay?”

By the end of his speech, Donna has turned to stare at him dumbfounded. Her mouth open, eyes watering as Harvey shouts at her from across the room. He has his hands fisted in his hair, his mouth a twisted and trembling line as he realises what just happened.

And Mike, shaking and weak, is leaning against the door frame to Harvey’s bedroom; tears on his face blurring worsening bruises as he stares at Harvey in horror and wonder.

* * *

“I- I’ll leave. It’s still early in the day, maybe I could find a hostel? Or – I don’t know, I’ll do something. I’m so sorry, Harvey. I-“

Donna sighed, moving quickly as Mike started his pained stumble across the room. She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a stern look, shooting a glance over her shoulder at Harvey; still frozen in astonishment and embarrassment.

“Mike, go back to bed. It’s all fine, Harvey’s been drinking and he doesn’t mean a word he’s saying.” Mike shook his head, winced as the movement caused him obvious pain; his concussion still causing him issues even days later.

“No. No, it’s okay. I’ll- I’m sure I’ll be fine. Just let me change real quick and I’ll get out of your hair, really. I’m so sorry.” Donna couldn’t stop him as he gently shook off her hand on his shoulder and began slowly moving around the room, collecting the very few things he had brought with him. The look of sheer pain on his face had glued her to the spot, unable to do anything but watch as he winced and wobbled around, blinking back tears.

Thankfully, Harvey seemed to have gathered his sense about him again, sobering up quicker than Donna had seen before. He crossed the room confidently, rolling out the tension of his shoulders as he went. He stopped just in front of Mike, hand coming around to rest on the boys back gently as he turned away to grab his shirt hanging over the back of the chair.

“Mike, stop.” Harvey’s voice was calm, collected and confident. Not a wobble of emotion or alcohol tainting his usual lawyer persona. Mike, by either training or being just too tired and in too much pain to keep going, obeyed. Sighing as deeply as possible, wincing as it pulled and pained his injured ribs. He turned, sat on the chair he had been leaning against with a slump and a groan; reaching up to scrub exhaustion and tears from his face.

“Harvey-“ Mike’s voice came out a pained whisper, and Donna let herself sag against the sofa as Harvey knelt in front of their boy until Mike looked up and met his eyes.

“Listen to me Mike, because I’m only going to say this once. I am, at heart, a controlling and deeply suspicious person who does not take to change as easily as I might make it appear. Recently, and not just since you waltzed into my office with your shitty briefcase of drugs, my life has been in an unusual place and I let myself use you as an excuse to let go of my iron-tight control for a while. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, I do. And I want you to stay, alright. So will you please, for the love of God stop glancing towards the door like you want to make a run for it and just take some pain medication?”

Donna was up, out of her chair, and grabbing the lower dose medications to take the edge off Mike’s pain. Mostly, it was just to distract her from the way Mike was staring at Harvey’s face like all of this kindness was about to turn, that the shouting would come back and the violence he was so used to would follow.

“Okay.” Mike blushed lightly, glancing down at his knee’s. “I’m sorry about, y’know, flipping my shit and trying to leave.” Mike choked out a laugh, ruffling his hair lightly as he stood.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m sorry for being a dick and shouting when that was the last thing you needed.” Donna appeared at Mike’s shoulder with pills and a glace of water. “Now take your medications and try not to be any more of a nuisance. I’m going to sleep off the adrenaline fuelled hangover I can feel approaching.”

Harvey revelled in the stifled laughter from both of them behind him as he made his way to his bedroom, collapsing on his bed and letting his clothes rumple as he slipped into sleep.

* * *

Things, in their fucked up sense, went back to normal after Harvey slept off his hangover. Mike, still jumpy and terrified and pained, spent the day after in bed and the five days after that driving Harvey and Donna insane trying to do thing he wasn’t ready for. Between them, they thought it was Mikes messed up way of trying to ‘repay’ them for whatever he perceived them to have done for them. It was unnecessary and somewhat painful to move, but ended up being strangely beneficial in the long run. After five days, Mike was breathing a little easier, coming off the stronger painkillers full time and able to sit up by himself slowly and carefully.

Harvey let himself relax into their new routine. At the times when he was absolutely required in the office, Donna would look after Mike at the apartment, and vice-versa. This way, it was easiest to keep a close eye on Mike without seeming too overbearing, and for them both to peer pressure Louis into researching, questions, acting quicker when it came to finding some way to get Mike some safe justice.

Harvey believed, in the privacy of his own mind, that getting Mike some of the material things he had lost back would help leaps along in his progress. He believed, naively, that it would be some sudden turning point in his recovery that would be step towards healing, moving on, coming back to them as the real and whole version of their Mike.

There are few things Harvey has been wrong about in his life, and this, as with many things with Mike, turned out to be one of his worst miscalculations.

Louis turns up, eight days after their big shouting/confession/healing thing, buzzing with news and practically bouncing around Harvey’s sitting room like a fly on crack. Mike watched, camped out along the sofa as he iced his ribs; pained from moving around way too much today trying to help Harvey give the apartment a cleanup. He was nibbling on the fragile skin around his nails, and pouted when Donna reached over to gently tug them away from his mouth as the skin split and began to well with small drops of blood.

Harvey suppressed a very, very exaggerated eye roll and took a sip of his beer, relaxing back into the butter leather of his armchair; Donna perched on his right hand arm, one hand reached out to keep hold of Mike’s bitten fingers.

“Whatever it is, Louis, get on with it. We’re all too tired for you over-eager puppy routine.” Louis paused on what could possibly be his twentieth circle around Harvey’s coffee table.

“I found it!” Louis crowed, finger clutching at papers and crumpling them in the process. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Donna wince at their mistreatment. It was still a clear defined moment in his life when she had ranted for a good thirty minutes about the disgrace her filing system looked because of his crumpled paper pushing.

“Founds what?” Harvey sighed, twirling his bottle between his hands, bored. Louis was practically buzzing with shrill excitement and he could clearly see that his proximity and excitability was putting Mike on edge. Both he and Donna had been quiet and a little gentle since Mike had come back to them, exactly because Mike no longer reacts well to people who move too quickly around him.

“A way to fix our little fraudsters problems all in one fell swoop!” Louis exclaimed, brandishing his papers towards Mike. Mike flinched back, barely perceptible except to Donna and himself, who had been keeping a too-close watch on Mike for the two weeks he’d been home from the hospital. Donna must have done something, leaning in close and still holding his hand, because a moment later the kid breathed in as deeply as he could with his injured ribs and let his tension drain away. A moment later, Harvey gestured towards Louis to continue, and settled back deep into his chair to listen to the eternal ramblings of the insane financial genius.

There was a long and lengthy explanation of whatever it was that Louis had done, leaving them all staring back blank and bored at the man pacing the length of Harvey’s apartment sitting room. It came to an end with the ridiculous man’s face twisted into partly professional grin and fire in his voice.

“Basically, I’ve figured it out! I can ruin him, ground him down into the ground with nothing. I can beat that guys ass into the ground, Mike, just you wait.”

Louis was still babbling, rumbling like an annoying fly in the periphery of Harvey’s concentration, which had switched as Mike visibly tensed and shivered and struggled as Louis kept going on and one.

It took another thirty minutes before Louis was calm enough to finally get the hell out of the apartment, and by then Mike had managed to force a look of drugged calm on his face when Harvey returned to look over him.

“It’s okay, Mike. It’s going to be all over soon.” Harvey whispered, just as Mike was beginning to drift off. “It’ll be all find soon, I promise.” Donna smiled over at him gently, and Harvey rolled his eyes playfully at her, feeling lighter than he had in a while.

That was the first night in a long time that Mike woke up screaming.


	8. Dissociation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not weakness to ask for help when you need it, Mike.” 
> 
> “Yeah, I guess I know that. It’s just that he – Trevor - he sort of instilled it into me that I don’t need anything that he didn’t give me, y’know. Sometimes it’s hard to break out of what I thought was true when I was with him. Sometimes it’s just so hard, Harvey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So at the beginning of this there is discussion of highly improbable, impossible and illegal actions that honestly would never happen in real life but don't really affect the story? So, artistic license would be appreciated. 
> 
> Warning for mild self-harm themes, obvious abuse themes and a distressed and angry Mike. Y'know. The usual.
> 
> Also, when I said slow build I am now pretty sure I meant with how long this is taking me to bloody write! I was diagnosed with my 8th medical condition last week and it's knocked me sideways a little. 
> 
> If you wanna catch up, I'm on Instagram at - Rayrawl  
> or Tumblr at - aconitum-palmatum

“The way this is going to work means you won’t get all of the money back, but you’ll get a decent chunk. As it looks like he’s already spent a decent amount of it, we can back trace his debit spending and siphon some of it out of the account, and for the rest, we pull up some old charges against him that will eventually result in his accounts being frozen. We do have some people inside of the station that can get the funds transferred back where it’s possible, but the charges against him will probably be dropped for the same reasons as the previous time. At least you’ll have some of it back, and hopefully he’ll get the message not to fuck with Pearson Hardman employees.”

Mike nodded as Harvey laid out the basic plans for them. He was exhausted, always on the edge of sleep but unable to let him slip just that little bit further into rest. Around him sat Louis, Donna and Harvey himself. They all looked bright eyed and alert, sparking an indignant rage deep in the pit of Mike’s stomach, adding to the fire that had been building since the first nightmare. He knew, logically, that it wasn’t their fault that he was feeling so disconnected and exhausted, but it still bit bitterly at him that they were at least getting some peaceful rest while he bit his screams into Harvey’s luxurious pillows and sobbed out the memories into trembling hands.

Around him he could hear the murmur of chattering voices, the way it had seemed for the past two weeks. Sometimes, if someone directly spoke to him, Mike would focus long enough to listen to what they said and give a valid response; a lot of the time though, he just watched vacantly as he struggled to keep his eyes open and his breathing even. It felt like he was drowning, suffocating under the ocean of emotion and memories and nightmares haunting him into every waking hour. It was becoming harder and harder to make himself stay present and vocal, easier to slip into the nothingness where there was only focusing on staying awake was all that mattered.

He’s not sure how long he’s trapped in the bitterness, in the –inhale-exhale- of keeping it all deep inside, but by the time he registers a hand on his knee and a worried voice pulling him back, there is just Harvey and his worried face. Mike wonders how long he was gone this time, what else was discussed, when Donna and Louis left to do whatever it was they did outside of the trapped lifelessness of the apartment.

“There you are.” Harvey murmurs, taking his hand off him. Mike had startled so badly that he’d screamed for fifteen minutes the first time Harvey had brought him back from one of these episodes with physical contact. Now though, he just misses the warmth Harvey’s contact brought to his frozen body.

“You were gone for a while that time. Donna and Louis left about ten minutes ago to grab some lunch and head back into the office. It’s about two-thirty. Are you hungry?”

Mike doesn’t know who Harvey had spoken to, but about a week after these episodes began he started to inform him quickly of the things he had missed while he was ‘gone’, informing him of the time so he could figure it out for himself how long it had been this time, and then would ask a basic question to get Mike talking again.

“An hour and a half.” Mike murmurs back. “No, I’m thirsty.” Harvey nods, gets up to go to the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of cold water, cracking it open before handing it over carefully into Mike’s shaking hands. He waits while he takes a sip, and then another, until he’s drank down about half the bottle and has let the cool water bring him up from the empty space a little more. Harvey nods like he approves and then sits, perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of him.

“Any pain?” Mike’s fingers still cramped and locked some times, and his ribs often ached something rotten, but the other injuries had almost all healed up.

The physical ones, anyway.

Mike shakes his head, tilts his hand on its axis to reference a ‘so-so’ that Harvey nods at, again.

“Later.” He mutters out. “I’ll take the pills later.” Harvey looks doubtful, which Mike thinks it probably fair. He doesn’t take them as often as he should, having struggled to pull himself out from under their weight when he battled with nightmares as he slept. Eventually, the doubtful crease around his eyes fades away into polite-lawyer face; the one Harvey has taken to using when he wants to talk about something important that he thinks will trigger Mike’s bubbling rage and desperation. Mike curls in on himself just a little, preparing to block out any of the unwanted things that could break through his blank walls. Harvey lets s small frown cross his face before it settles again, fingers pressing together beneath his chin.

“We need to talk about this-“ He waves one hand in Mike’s direction. “Thing, you’ve been doing.” Mike curls in on himself a little more; already having anticipated this conversation and been dreading it since he figured out what it is he’s been doing.

“I spoke to a psychologist who specialises in cases of severe domestic abuse. She said that what you’re doing is dissociating. You’re pulling back into somewhere inside of yourself where nothing that could hurt you exists. Mike-“

“Please don’t make me stop. Please.” Mike interrupts, and thinks momentarily of the days back when Harvey would frown and reprimand him for that. He misses it when things where that simple. Harvey lets the frown cross his face and stick this time, turning down his mouth and pressing wrinkles into his forehead and around his eyes. Mike feels a momentary pang for this man in front of him, a beautiful, confident man, getting wrinkles because of a broken, dirty mess like him.

“It’s- Mike, what you’re doing. It isn’t healthy. You can’t recover from what happened to you without working through it. You can’t just block out the world.”

“Harvey-“

“No, Mike. You’re not sleeping, hardly eating. You’re scrubbing yourself raw whenever you shower, screaming and crying whenever you do nod off. This can’t keep happening. You know that. You’re smarter than this.” They sat in silence for a little while, Harvey waiting for Mike to say something; Mike trying not to choke on the words and feelings and fears threatening to spill out in a grotesque confession.

Harvey looks just about ready to start in on another motivational speech when it comes tumbling out, the one thing Mike didn’t want to tell them, him, anyone.

“ _It’s all my fault_.” He whispers it, quick and sudden, leaving Harvey looking stunned before him.

“Mike. No-“

“It is, Harvey!” Mike explodes, rushing up onto his feet only to have to steady himself on the arm of the chair as his head rushed. Harvey looked concerned, but didn’t move. He’d learnt early on how much Mike hated being coddled when he was in a mood like this.

“Of course it’s my fault! I love him, I let him hurt me. I got you, Donna, the entire fucking firm involved in my monumental fuck up! I’ve chosen the worst goddamn way to cope because otherwise it would feel like I can’t breathe every time I even blink. Everything I do puts you in danger of being fired and losing you licence. Hell, getting revenge on someone who I still love, who abused me and _raped_ me is one of the worst things I’ve done even though I know, logically, he should suffer for what he has done. I can’t cope with what he’s done and that’s the reason you haven’t been into the office for three weeks, the reason you’re getting frown lines. There’s this pit in my stomach that’s bubbling with rage and disappointment that doesn’t make any sense because it’s growing every time I know you’ve gotten some sleep and I’ve screamed my nightmares into a pillow. It’s _all my fault_ , Harvey!”

Mike pants quickly, collapsing back into the chair as quickly as he had vacated it. There’s a strange sense of calm washing over him, that clenching, ugly space inside of him feeling a little smaller. A little lighter. His eyes feel heavy as he lays his head back against the soft leather of the chair. He doesn’t know how long the quite went on, interspaced by the heavy sound of his breathing as he settles back down, and the deep, even breaths of Harvey trying to process what had been said.

Eventually, the gentle weight of a blanket is settled over him, soft fingers dragging through his hair sooth away the last of his panic.

“Go to sleep, Mike. We’ll talk when you’ve gotten some rest.”

And what can Mike do but comply?

* * *

Mikes first nightmare had dragged Harvey running from his guest bed, thoughts of Trevor coming into his home to take Mike away flooding his mind. Instead, he had found Mike twisted impossibly in the sheets of his bed, screaming and scrambling and begging for it to stop. It had been close to impossible to drag Mike out of his terror. Afterwards, Mike had withdrawn into himself, hadn’t spoke, moved or registered anyone around him for forty-five minutes. Harvey, at the time had assumed that was normal. He hadn’t had much experience with people who had nightmares, par his little brother who had them for a few weeks after their mother had left them for another man on the opposite side of the country.

A week later, and at least fifteen nightmares, nine different ‘blank’ episodes and dark circles digging holes beneath Mike’s eyes, Harvey left his associate in the capable hands of his assistant and had commandeered help in the form of the psychiatrist whom one of his clients had been seeing during their case. He had explained, in detail, exactly what had been happening with Mike. In less detail what had caused it, but enough for her to look sympathetic and appalled at the same time. She had told him that Mike was dissociating, going into a place in his mind where there was nothing bad or wrong, a place where nothing bad had ever happened. Dr. Chistler had explained that although it wasn’t the healthiest of coping mechanisms, it was common in people who had suffered severe and constant abuse for long periods of time.

They had talked that over for a while, and then she began asking about other signs of distress that Mike might be showing, any signs of self harm or eating disorders. Harvey had thought it over, had mentioned how Mike ate very little, but it could be a result of being disallowed food for who knows how long when with his abuser. The self-harm was something he had to think harder about. He didn’t think Mike was doing anything purposefully to hurt himself, but Mike always wore long sweatpants and long-sleeved Henley’s that he stole from Harvey’s wardrobe. He had said as much, and the doctor had smiled gently at him before suggesting some options he might not have been paying attention to.

Cuts, burns or bruises out of the ordinary? – No.

Hair pulling or skin scratching? - No

Scolding showers and excessively rough skin scrubbing? – Maybe

She had just nodded and told him that was also common, that those who suffered physical abuse and sexual assault often used those methods to help themselves feel less ‘dirty’. Harvey had been shocked, unable to accept her reassurances. Dr Chistler had told him to keep any eye on things, to try and talk it through with Mike if he could, and bring him in to see her at any time if he felt he needed it. And – for the love of God – if you think he is a danger to himself or others take him to the hospital. Having him safe will always trump his anger at you. Harvey had only nodded numbly, accepted her reassurances once again, and left.

Since then, he had been meaning to talk to Mike, but other aspects of the problem got in the way. Dealing with Louis, and his plans to get some revenge and Mike’s money back took over a significant amount of time and Harvey started losing track of Mike’s sleeping, eating and cleaning habits. It wasn’t until, over two weeks later, that he finally really saw the unbelievable dark circles beneath his eyes, his collarbones pressing uncomfortably against taunt and deathly pale skin. The red welts from scrubbing too hard at his skin beneath too-hot water.

He lets Louis into his apartment, chattering away and endlessly smug that he finally has something to hold over Harvey, and watches closely as Mike slips-slips-slips and is gone from the present and into wherever he goes when he’s not really here. He must pulls himself out of it a little, nodding when he’s supposed to nod, but then his eyes cloud and his mouth slackens and he’s gone again. Louis, surprisingly, looks very concerned as he looks over to Mike and see’s him distant and unresponsive. He glances at Harvey but he just shakes his head, because how could he talk about what the psychiatrist said with Louis when he hasn’t been able to bring himself to really speak to Mike in weeks beyond pulling him further out of his dissociation with a few well meaning questions? Louis just nods, offers lunch to Donna if she accompanies him back to the office, and leads the both of them out of the building.

Harvey putters around, tidying up the cups from their meeting before Mike finally begins to stir, some life returning to his eyes and his muscles loosening up from their held positions. He takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly, and settles in front of Mike.

From then on, the conversation doesn’t go as he expects. Although, at some point he had known that Mike was going to have these feelings, knew he was going to let it all flood out given how tightly he was locking it all in, but when it comes, Harvey doesn’t know what to do. He freezes, listens intently as Mike lets it all spill out and then does absolutely nothing as Mike lets his exhaustion over come him. He covers him up, orders him to sleep and slips off to his home office to think.

Harvey listens out closely for nightmares by instinct, having done the same for weeks now when he knew that Mike was sleeping. He lets himself think over what Mike shouted at him, the pain in his eyes and the way he could hardly breathe by the end of it. He lets himself think back on the tight, exhausted set of his shoulders, and the croak in his voice that screaming through the night has left him with. He wonders how could he have missed the rage bubbling up inside of a man that he spends every day with? How could he not see that Mike was turning his pain into rage and frustration, focusing it onto himself and the people around him because the person he should be blaming is also the man he thought he loved for longer than Harvey can even imagine.

Harvey knows, without a doubt, that Mike needs to speak with someone who isn’t so closely involved with this whole mess. Maybe Dr. Chistler, or if Mike doesn’t think she will help, someone else. Anyone else. Harvey would, at this point, give anything to have Mike whole and well, like he once thought he was.

Oh, how delightful ignorant he used to be.

Harvey spends the next hour ruminating on how things have changed, what he could possibly do. He wonders how long Mike has really felt this way, and how, even if he had missed it, how had Donna? He thinks, absently, of how trusting Mike had seemed those first few days he had been here with them, safe and cared for. Harvey remembers the feeling of Mike’s fingers reaching out slowly to cover his as they talked while he rested, and how warm Mike had still seemed regardless of all of those dreadful things that had happened to him. He lets himself dream absently of how much –

“Harvey?”

Mikes weak, croaked voice pulls him away from thoughts that really shouldn’t be worming his way inside of his head and he checks the clock. He has been in his office for a little over an hour, possibly more sleep all at once than Mike has had in days, and Harvey lets out a sigh of relief that at least this moment of rest wasn’t wasted with a nightmare.

“Yeah, Mike?” He pops his head around his office door, catching Mike running a glass of cool water from the tap and drinking deeply before turning around and smirking a little ruefully in his direction.

“I- I just wanted to apologise, for earlier. I don’t know where that came from, and you didn’t deserve it.”

Harvey crossed further into the room, taking a seat at the breakfast bar that broke up the sitting room from the kitchen to focus on Mike.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s about time you got some of it off your chest.” Mike shook his head, slumping down onto his elbows and dragging his hands through messy hair.

“Yeah, I know. I just wish it wasn’t at you. I know you’re all doing what you can to help me out here, and I really do appreciate it! Honestly. It’s just- sometimes – I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Like I can’t control myself without going to that other place.” Harvey watched his associate close his eyes and take deep, even breaths. A reassuring sight, after all the struggles he had experienced with his damaged ribs. They might still be healing, but seeing Mike this much better, physically, was like a weight off Harvey’s chest.

“Listen, Mike. I know you might not be ready for this, and tell me if you aren’t and we’ll revisit it at another time, but I think it might be time for you to talk to someone... professional about what happened to you.” Mike’s head shot up from where it was cradled in his hands, eyes wide and desperate for a moment as he gaped at Harvey before he seemed to deflate, scrubbing a thin hand across exhausted eyes.

“You – um – you might be right. I haven’t exactly been dealing well with all of this.” Mike looked sheepish, and for one desperate moment Harvey felt an uncontrollable urge to round the bar and pull the younger man into a hug that they both probably needed more than they would admit to; instead, he reached over and placed a warm hand on Mike’s bony shoulder in reassurance until the kid looked back up at him.

“It’s not weakness to ask for help when you need it, Mike.”

“Yeah, I guess I know that. It’s just that he – Trevor - he sort of instilled it into me that I don’t need anything that he didn’t give me, y’know. Sometimes it’s hard to break out of what I thought was true when I was with him. Sometimes it’s just so hard, Harvey.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Harvey murmured, once again fighting the urge to comfort the kid more than was purely appropriate. They sat there in silence for a little while, Mike to collect himself and Harvey to collect his thoughts.

“Hey, how about we put all of this on the back burner for now, order that ridiculous pizza you like and watch Star Trek. Tomorrow, we’ll get you an appointment with someone, but for now, I think we both could use some time off from everything going on?” Mike nodded, smiled one of the first true, real and honest smiles he’d seen from him in weeks and stood up straighter. Harvey watched with an amused smile as Mike headed towards the fridge, opening it up and bending a little to peer inside.

“So,” Mike turned, hand on hip and smug smirk on his lips, “Beer or, hmm, beer?”

Harvey laughed, digging out his phone to place the order.

Yeah, they’d get through this. They were gonna be alright.


End file.
